Being Driven Batty
by AthenaHarper
Summary: Bruce has been brooding in the Batcave for far too long, so the Batboys decide to take turns trying to drive him out. Each one goes about it in their own way and they use everything from threats to hacking the cave's speaker system. Damien's cats, Tim's unique revenge on Dick, and more. Just some fun Batfamily one-shots. Rated T Just to be safe.
1. Story 1: The Bat and His Cave

Being Driven Bats:

"This is getting ridiculous! Bruce has been brooding down in the cave for two weeks now and hasn't come out once," observed Tim.

Alfred set the tea tray on the coffee stand beside the couch Tim and Dick were seated on. "I've been doing my best to get him to come out of there, but he simply will not listen to reason. He is so distressed about what happened to the commissioner at the Gala, that he will not come out of his guilt trance. He keeps looking for what could have done wrong that's he's gone over the case at least a hundred times. Perhaps if one of you made an attempt, it would be more successful," suggested or rather pleaded the old man.

"We'll give it a go Alfred," Tim promised him.

"Thank you, Master Timothy. I would be ever so grateful." Alfred picked up the tray again and descended the stairs to the Batcave.

Dick shot to his feet. "I have an idea!"

"Oh, this'll be good," Jason's voice dripped with sarcasm.

"Thanks Jay, I knew you had faith in me," said Dick unaffected by Jason's tone. "We'll all take turns trying to get Bruce out of the cave and the winner gets-"

"24 hours without being disturbed," Damien finished.

"No. See, that's the attitude that got us into this mess in the first place," Dick pointed out. "We'll each put $20 dollars in a hat and whoever gets him out wins the hat."

"And 12 hours of silence," Damien put in.

"Fine," said Dick dragging the word out and rolling his eyes.

"12 hours without Dick annoying me? I am so in," said Jason jumping off the couch and dropping $20 in the hat. Tim and Damien both decided to play as well and put their money in Bruce's top hat which Dick had appropriated for the purposes. As he dropped him money in the hat, Dick looked over at Jason, "I think I've been insulted." And Jason just nodded.

Damien made the first attempt. He marched into the cave like he meant business and planted himself in front of Bruce. "Father," he began, "if you do not vacate this cave immediately, I will take over Wayne Enterprises."

"And then I will take it back after I've found my mistake so I can keep it from ever happening again," said Bruce looking around Damien back at the screen. His son moved slightly to obstruct his view of the screen again.

"I will take my sword and gut every worthless criminal bastard in this city," Damien swore, "unless you come out of your hole and stop me." This time Bruce looked his son in the eye. Knowing Damien, this was no idle threat. His eyes shone with threatening emotions. Oh, that kid had the famous batglare down. Much faster than any of the others, but then, like father like son. For a long moment, Bruce said nothing.

Damien threw his hands in the air. "Fine. I hope you like your streets covered with end trails, father. The dogs do, it's like a free sausage bar for them." He took his sword down from the pegs it rested on and placed his domino mask over his eyes. As he mounted the stairs, Damien asked once more, "aren't you going to stop me and save your city's scum?"

Knowing full well the game Damien was playing, but still afraid that he would carry out his threats, Bruce quickly thought up a response that would keep his youngest son in line and allow himself to stay right where he was. "I have no intention of following you around Gotham and keeping you out of trouble," he said. Damien looked confused and appalled at the same time. "Luckily, I don't have to. I'll stick Nigthwing on your tail and he'll keep you in line."

Damien growled, but then his expression changed to one of mischief. "What am I doing going back upstairs?" he asked himself allowed, "when I have a way to move through Gotham so fast Nigthwing will never catch me." Bruce watched in horror as Damien snatched the keys to the Batmobile and climbed into the driver's seat.

Now it was Bruce's turn to growl. He got up from his chair (an improvement in Damien's mind) and walked over to the car. Before Damien could close himself in, Bruce lifted him out of the driver's seat by the armpits. Damien glared up at him indignantly. Then Bruce took the sword away in a lightning fast movement and threw it over the ledge of the main floor of Batcave on which they stood. "I've had enough. Go back upstairs," he growled.

"Well, Drake, it looks like it's your turn!" said an exasperated Damien when he re-entered the living room where his brothers and Alfred awaited his results.

"You mean you caved to the bat?" teased Tim. He really couldn't help himself.

"No, but I thought I'd rather watch you fail than keep fighting since I don't need the money," Damien shot back.

"What about the 12 hours of uninterrupted silence you insisted on?" Tim pressed.

"Jason wanted 12. I wanted 24. And if I really wanted silence, I'd just kill you all."

"Ouch," said Dick looking up from his laptop.

"Just hurry up and fail Drake," Damien snarled. He plopped himself down on the couch where he had been sitting earlier.

"Watch and learn," said Tim, "sometimes you have to outwit the bat because threats aren't very effective on someone who's been through what he has. Dick, can I borrow your laptop?"

Dick looked hesitant for a minute. "If you don't touch anything I'm using," he cautioned. Tim promised. Dick handed his laptop over to Tim and perched on the back of the chair behind him curiously.

Tim looked at the internet tabs Dick had left open and his eyebrows shot up. There were several tabs for Youtube and things like the _Barbie Song_ , _My Little Pony_ , and _Strawberry Shortcake_. "I'm not even going to ask," said Tim rolling his eyes. He had always thought Dick was a little weird but he was starting to think his brother could use a therapist.

He began hacking Batman's villain alert system and planted a story about Killer Crock terrorizing Gotham's Opera Concert Hall. He made it look as urgent as he could. Then he locked down everything in the Manor and Batcave to force Bruce to come upstairs and demand help or an explanation if he figured things out.

Down in the Batcave, Tim's story flashed on the screen. Bruce jumped up from his chair and pulled the cowl over his head. He was ready to jump in the Batmobile when he thought to hack and check the security cameras in the Concert Hall which is when he realized that the story was a plant. A little more digging in the computer revealed that the source of the story was Dick's laptop. The plant had been so carefully and well concealed that he almost didn't catch him. It was unlike Dick to think of something this sneaky. I must have been Tim, he concluded. The plant was good, almost too good. It had to be Tim. Not that Dick was incapable of hacking the mother computer from his laptop, he was; it just wasn't a thing he'd do.

Bruce decided to do some hacking of his own. He sent a message to Dick's computer. Upstairs, Tim and the others waited to see if Bruce had taken the bait. The answer came in a message that spidered across the laptop's screen. It read, "nice try Tim. Better luck next time. Bruce." Dick read it allowed for everyone in the room.

Disappointed, Tim gave the computer back to Dick who erased the message from Bruce, inserted USB stick and started downloading something.

"Looks like you couldn't outsmart father after all Drake," said Damien smugly.

"It was still a clever plan though, Master Timothy," Alfred offered.

Tim sighed. "It's your turn Jason. Remember, shooting him and dragging his body upstairs does not count."

"I'll shoot him just a little," Jason promised as he rose from his armchair and left the room.

First Alfred, then Damien, them Tim. Everyone was trying to get him to leave the cave. Bruce considered the pattern and prepared himself for a visit from Jason. He was as stubborn and they were and he was not leaving the cave no matter what they did. Just as he predicted, Jason walked down the stairs into the cave. Bruce wasn't sure exactly what tactic he'd use but he had a couple of guesses.

Jason came up behind him and pointed a gun at the back of Bruce's head. "Alright, get up old man. We're walking upstairs to say hello to all those people who miss you. Why they miss your company is still a mystery to me. I'm just here for the 12 hours silence awarded to the winner."

Whatever Jason said or did, Bruce knew it was highly unlikely that he would shoot. It was also unlikely that he didn't care like the rest of them, he'd just never show it. Or, rather, this was his way of showing it; by pointing a gun. Bruce rose from his seat. Of course, Jason would go for the physical tactic. He started walking towards the stairs when he spun around and grabbed the gun and tossed it over the ledge to join Damien's sword.

A fist fight ensued. Bruce punched Jason in the stomach and Jason reeled back only to come at Bruce again and sweep him off his feet with a sweeping kick aimed at Bruce's ankles. Bruce fell and Jason seized the opportunity to grab his ankles and drag him towards the stairs. However, Bruce didn't go down that easily. He was on his feet in seconds and the fight continued. After a good ten minutes, Bruce finally stuffed Jason into the elevator and sent him back upstairs.

"Alright Dick, it's your turn. But if you get him out of the cave, just remember I softened him up for you," said Jason walking back into the living room. He looked like hell.

"I'll get the first aid kit," said Alfred and he got up from the armchair.

"I take it things didn't go as planned," said Tim, "have you thought of what we'll do with the prize if Bruce wins and stays in the cave?"

"We stuff the money and the hat down his unsocial throat," Jason growled.

"Wait, I still have a chance," said Dick. He grabbed the USB stick and his coffee mug before leaving the room and heading down into the cave.

"$50 bucks says 'Dick's pep-talk won't have any effect on Bruce and Dick will be in the cave for hours himself'," said Jason after Dick left.

Dick walked casually into the cave and over to Bruce's chair and the computer. He was still watching the same footage from the Gala. "If you're here to try to talk me into going back upstairs, save your breath," said Bruce coldly.

Dick was a little taken aback by his coldness, but undeterred. "And if I try reverse psychology?" he laughed.

"Same result. You'd be wasting your time and mine."

"I don't know why I even bother. It's not like we have that great of a relationship anymore because you're impossible."

"No, it's because you're impossible."

Dick threw his hands in the air. "I don't know why I even bother."

"Neither do I."

"Well good-bye then!" Dick stormed off but not before he plugged his USB stick into the cave's sound system. When he returned to the living room, everyone was laughing, except Alfred who just looked disappointed.

"No luck huh?" said Tim.

"Just wait for it," said Dick with a slightly evil grin sliding onto his face. He logged back onto his laptop and remotely accessed the cave's sound system. "And, ' _Go Diego, Go_ '," said Dick. Below them in the cave, the Theme song for _Go Diego, Go_ blasted over the loud speakers. Bruce covered his ears and did everything he could to turn it off. When he thought he had succeeded, _My Little Pony_ started playing. Bruce smashed the players. Dick was not going to win this easily.

Finally, he thought he had peace and quiet again when Dick hacked his computer screen and Barbie, Life in the Dream House started playing in front of him. Damn, Dick knew how to annoy him. Since he could find a way to override Dick's trojan horse, Bruce shut the computer down, but he still wasn't going upstairs.

That is until Dick started singing Strawberry Shortcake over the intercom. Finally, Bruce couldn't take it anymore. He raced out of the cave and into the living room. He tackled Dick to the floor and pinned him. He was being his menacing Batman persona until he realized that everyone including Alfred was laughing at them. Even with Bruce's full weight on his chest, Dick was laughing (and coughing).

"Who would have believed Grayson could do the impossible and drive the bat batty," laughed Damien.

"Nice work Master Richard. It looks like you won the game," said Alfred.

Bruce was indignant, but he allowed Dick to sit up. "You really weren't going to give up on me were you?"

"Never. At least, not this time," said Dick. He hugged Bruce and then Tim piled in on top of them. Alfred walked over and put an arm around Dick's back and a hand on Bruce's shoulders. He beckoned for Damien to join them. Damien grabbed Jason and yanked him into the group hug. Jason pulled back, "no way am I joining that," he declared.

"If I have to, so do you," said Damien. An hour later, they had convinced Bruce to join them in watching a James Bond movie and eating popcorn. He never admitted it, but Bruce was secretly glad the Dick had go to such extreme measures. He had been so consumed by his mistakes that he failed to see that there were people who needed him regardless.

Fuzzy un-manly feelings aside, he looked at his boys and was glad they were there. Damien sat on his left in a huge leather chair and Tim and Jason were on his right on the couch. Dick was sitting on the floor with his legs spread out and a bag of chips. Bruce whispered a "thank you" to Dick's back, just quietly enough that the young man wouldn't have heard it. Dick heard it anyways, but he never said a word about it.


	2. Story 2: Damien's Cats

Story 2: Damien's Cats

Damien knew full well that Dick was the only one who would take the time to bring him to the animal shelter. It never took much to get Grayson to do something for him unlike the others. He used to take it as a sign of weakness on Dick's part, until he figured out that this brother just loved people. Sometimes he felt a little guilty that people (including him) didn't show the same kind of devotion to Dick. But he wasn't about to go all soppy, so he never voiced that thought.

So, there they were, in the Bentley driving back from the Animal Refuge League of Gotham with 22 cats. The shelter was being forced to close and the cats that hadn't been adopted had been sentenced to euthanasia. That left him, Damien Wayne, to be the white knight of Gotham's kittens.

"You know Alfred is going to flip out when he sees these right?" asked Dick.

"I'm not worried," said Damien, "I plan to blame it all on you Grayson."

"Great. Just get that cat off the dashboard so I can see." Damien lifted the fluffy white cat into his lap. After making sure that Dick wasn't watching, he started cuddling it and burring his face in its thick fur.

Fifteen minutes later they arrived at the house. They argued for a bit about the best way to get all of the cats inside without having to chase them through the yard. In the end, Dick skillfully backed the car into the house through the double doors and parked in the foyer, barely missing a plaster statue.

"What in the name of Batman are you doing?" demanded Tim as he walked up to the driver's side door.

Dick rolled the window down and grinned. "Just passing through. Delivery for Wayne Manor; 22 cats. This is the place, right?"

"22 what!" cried Tim. His eyes were as big as saucers of milk. Dick's words became inescapably clear when Damien opened the door to the back seat and 22 felines raced out. Fur flying, they flew past him and into the living room. Tim sneezed. "I'm allergic to cats."

"Oh, sorry," said Dick handing his brother a tissue.

"You do realize- achoo- the odds of you two getting out of this unscathed is zero percent chance, right?"

"Yeah. Dick and Damien, partners in crime to the end," said Dick saluting Tim. He rolled up the window again and drove out of the foyer, down the steps, and back onto the driveway.

Back inside, Damien had five cats with him on the couch and he was petting them contentedly. The sight was adorable and kind of made the whole cat-rescue worth it. Dick took a picture of Damien curled up on his side with a large black cat nestled in his arms and the fluffy white one from the dashboard on his head. He walked all the way into the room. "So, I'm guessing the black one it Bat-cat?'

"Grayson, only you would come up with such a repulsive name," said Damien. However, he didn't get the chance to keep insulting his brother because Jason screamed from upstairs and interrupted him. Dick, Damien, and Tim all raced in the direction of Jason's voice.

When they got to him, Jason was wearing a towel around his waist and literally steaming. "What the hell is that cat doing here?" he demanded. One of Damien's cats was soaking wet and covered with toilet paper and shaving cream. Apparently, it had decided to take a shower with Jason and regretted its decision. When Jason chased it, it got tangled in the toilet paper and coated in shaving cream.

Damien picked it up and tenderly removed the toilet paper and cleaned it off. He glared at Jason, "how dare you frighten Lacy, Todd!"

"Me, frighten that thing! I was minding my own business till that furry little bitch attacked me!"

"Don't insult her either!" Damien threatened.

They were about to go at it again when Tim called from the other room, "guys, I think you should see this." They all raced into Bruce's room. It was a disaster area. One of the orange tabbies had used Bruce's bed as a scratching post and had torn the bedding to shreds. The dresser drawers had somehow been opened and the cat they hadn't know was pregnant had a litter of kittens in Bruce's socks. Pieces of pillow stuffing were strewn around the floor and two cats were fighting in the middle of it.

"Marco, Polo, stop fighting!" ordered Damien. He fearlessly walked over to pull the two apart.

"Marco and Polo. That's kind of cute," said Dick.

"Bruce is so going to kill you two," said Tim a little too happily.

Dick shrugged. "I'll still be able to mess with you Tim. I have a very specific will."

Jason turned to go. "I'm going to put some clothes on. And if I find baby cats in my jeans, I'm going to shoot both of you and Batman won't be around to save you." He stalked off back to his room, still steaming.

"Damien," Dick began tentatively, "I think we may have gone a little overboard this time. Bruce and Alfred will be back from Wayne Tech in twenty minutes."

"Let's take all of the cats down to the cave," Damien suggested. "Then we can put the house back together and they'll never know."

Tim sneezed. "Brilliant idea. And just how are you two going to pull that off?"

"You will help us Drake or I will cut your throat in your sleep," vowed Damien darkly.

Poor Tim sneezed again. "If I touch those things I'll die."

"You'll die faster if you don't," Damien promised. He completely ignored Tim's runny nose and swollen red eyes.

Dick was about to interfere when he heard a crash coming from Bruce's study _. Oh, god have mercy, not the study,_ he thought. He front-flipped over the banister and arrived in the study downstairs in five seconds flat. Damien and Tim hardly even saw him leave.

If it was even possible, Bruce's study was in worse shape than his bedroom. Dick stood in the middle of the floor with his eyes wide and jaw hanging so low, it looked his he had dislocated it. The papers on the desk were scattered all over the floor and pawprints made of ink tracked all over the desk, couch, and low bookcase. The leather chair was scratched and the potted fern was on its side, dirt spilled over onto the once clean carpet. The teacup Bruce had left on the stand by the chair was broken on the floor.

Damien rushed in behind him. If he had been the apprehensive type, he would have chewed his fingernails. "I'm afraid Drake was right, father will break his code and kill us."

Dick came out of his trance, "let's just work on getting the cats into the cave," he suggested.

Unfortunately, it was easier said than done. Dick chased two cats around the living room. He did a handspring over the couch with one hand while he used the other to grab his target in a handstand. Then he did a half turn and did a front layout off the coffee table catching the cat that jumped off the TV in midair. Jason saw the whole thing and was incredibly impressed, however when Dick looked over at him he yawned. "Do you mind helping?" demanded Dick.

"I think it would be more fun to watch you disintegrate under the batglare."

Damien interrupted the exchange as he ran through the room chasing the white cat. "Fluffy, come back here!" he called. For once his voice sounded very childish.

Tim was having his own problems. He chased two Siamese cats around his room but he had to keep stopping to sneeze. Finally fed up with the chase, he threw baterangs at them which knocked them out instantly. He found a laundry bag that wasn't full of laundry and put the cats inside. Then he carried them down into the cave. That done, he really needed some tea and a nap.

Jason had by far the least patience. Exhausted by chasing cats he shouted, "if you don't surrender without a fight this second, I'll blow the furry hide right off your carcasses!"

"You do that and I'll slit you from nose to navel," Damien challenged him. He was carrying five cats at once and was struggling to do so.

"More cat-napping less threatening," called Dick from the other room. "Actually, let me rephrase that. I meant cat-napping as in kid-napping but without the kid. Do not go to sleep. Bruce and Alfred will be home in three minutes." When he came into view, he was caring six cats and sporting a long cut on his forehead from a claw. Blood dripped into his eye and he looked like a martyr for Damien's cause.

They kept rounding up cats and bringing them into the cave. Dick wiped the blood from his face with his sleeve. Tim couldn't stop sneezing and Jason looked like he was ready to kill. Only Damien looked at all happy. He tumbled about with the cats and held a new born kitten in each hand. No one would ever accuse him of being heartless again. He did a head count. "Where's Rusty?" he asked. Unfortunately, they were out of time. Their batsenses allowed them to hear the front door open upstairs. Then they heard a manly scream. "WHAT!"

Bruce and Alfred were back.


	3. Story 3: Revenge and Advertizing pt1

Story 3: Revenge and Advertising Pt.1

Dick, Bruce, and Damien congregated in the living room. Bruce was watching Gotham Today, Dick was stretched out on the couch texting Roy Harper, and Damien was curled up in the armchair reading _Oliver Twist_ by Charles Dickens with Bat-cat. Bruce had let him keep one cat after the incident when they destroyed his house. Damien still thought Bat-cat was a horrible name, but it had stuck thanks to Dick.

The pleasant evening was interrupted when the front door opened and Tim's voice shouted, "DICK!"

"And I'm out of here," said Dick getting off the couch. He was fast, really fast when he wanted to be, but not quite fast enough. Bruce caught his arm and held him back from his would-be escape rout.

"Dick, what's going on?" he demanded.

"You're going to get me killed if you don't let go. That's what's going on," said Dick.

Tim marched into the room. He had ahead full of steam and _, if this was a Looney Tunes episode_ thought Dick, he would have had smoke coming from his ears. He stomped over to Dick who looked resigned to his fate at this point. Bruce, Damien, and Bat-cat looked on with growing interest.

"Richard John Grayson, you jerk! How could you set me up with a date with Stephanie like that? That was so awkward especially after 'wondergirl' showed up. Did you arrange that too?" accused Tim.

"Whoa, slow down! Even the flash doesn't talk that fast. One accusing question at a time," pleaded Dick. He patted the air in a placating motion even though he knew it wouldn't easy the tension.

"Ok, fine," said Tim. He was an angry sort of calm now which, considering it was Tim, was almost more frightening. "Why did you set that up?"

"One because you two really need to talk and deal with your problems and it's driving me crazy; and two, because I thought it would be funny."

"How could it be funny?"

"Because you would be trapped in a public place and forced to be civil."

"I am always civil unlike certain others I could mention."

Jason shouted from the other room, "if you are referring to me, mine is a civility I picked up in hell. I am quite polite by some standards."

"Not by mine," muttered Alfred as he dusted a vase.

Tim and Dick ignored the aside. "Did you send Donna to spy on us?"

"No, of course not! Why would I do a thing like that?" asked Dick sounding insulted. "I sent _Roy_ incognito." He showed Tim their texting stream over the last hour including pictures. "You look like you were having a good time by the end."

"This isn't over, Dick," Tim swore before storming off to his bedroom.

"Did you just use my name as a swear word? I can never tell when people are mad at me." No answer. Bruce was sorely tempted to laugh at Dick's dumbfounded face, but instead he resumed watching TV. For his part, Damien was considering helping Drake get revenge on Grayson because he doubted his brother could play the revenge game well enough. Apparently, he still hadn't learned not to underestimate Tim.

Up in his room, Tim paced back and forth trying to figure out the best way to get back at Dick. Ok, true it worked out: in the end and he and Stephanie were able to patch things up. But still, the first hour was horribly awkward and the fact that Roy had somehow gotten past his radar and taken a picture of Stephanie kissing him before she left was unforgivable. He stopped fuming and pacing. He knew better than anyone how to keep a cool head and think rationally no matter how angry he was. It made him extremely good at plotting revenge. If he wanted to be a super villain, he'd be one of the best.

He decided to use the internet to stalk his brother on Facebook. Dick didn't post that much because he was supposed to be invisible if he wanted to, but there was plenty of stuff that Tim could use. Dick had gone into fashion molding for a bit last year. (That was before Bruce decided or rather Alfred decided that the Batclan had to patch things up and get back together). Anyways, Dick had unwisely posted pictures from the photo shoots.

Except for the shirtless one for Abercrombie, the pictures from American Eagle were the best. As if Dick wasn't already perfect and every girl's dream guy, the people from the store had made sure to touch things up and get the light just right. Perfect figure, perfect face, slightly wind swept hair. He hadn't much considered Dick's appearance before but wow. The people in charge of the catalogue and advertising must have been furious when he quit _. Damn_ , thought Tim, _my brother's a poster boy_.

He couldn't have been more right. Dick had so many friends on Facebook, he doubted his brother actually knew all of them. A lot of the ones he suspected Dick didn't know were girls. Every one of those pictures from the photo shoots had a thousand likes and comments such as: "sooooo hot!" "I want a boy like that," "what a dream boat," "wow, way more sexy than Greek gods," and "holy crap Dick, stop posting these pictures will you?" (the last one was from Roy Harper).

Tim recognized one of the names of the girls who commented on the Abercrombie picture. She was in his math class. He always suspected she didn't do a lot of math in or outside of class. Now he had a pretty good idea of what she did do. Stalk his, the words stuck painfully in his throat, hot older brother. He printed off the pictures on the wireless printer in Bruce's study and sprinted down stairs to claim them before Dick found out.

Collecting the pages as fast as they came out, Tim didn't hear Jason sneak in behind him.

"What are you up to?" he asked when he was right behind Tim.

"Eek!" Tim nearly jumped out of his skin and spun around. "Jason! What are you doing."

"Just keeping an eye on you. I want to be there when you get back at Dick." He took the last picture out of the printer before Tim could stop him.

"Give it back Jason."

"Oh, doing a little fan-boying are you," teased Jason, "I'm not sure Stephanie would approve."

"They're not going up on my wall, dummy," Tim shot back, "they're going in the girl's lockers at school. I have a master plan and this is step one."

"Tell me how I can help," said Jason with an evil grin, "no one can pass up a chance to torture Dick. It's unhealthy restraint if you do."

"If you can keep your mouth shut and your guns holstered, I may have a job for you."

"I'm in." Dick was so in for it.

The next morning when he came down to breakfast before school, Tim found Jason wearing an apron and cooking. Alfred hovered over him like the bat-grandpa and perfectionist butler that he was and doing his best not to bite off his fingernails. Bruce sat behind his newspaper and was ignoring everyone. Tim thought Dick had a point when he got Bruce a tee-shirt for Christmas that said, "make your morning easier and don't talk to me." Damien looked like Dr. Evil from _Austen Powers_ as he stroked Bat-cat and glared suspiciously at Jason's cooking.

Tim sat down and accepted the plate of scrambled eggs and waffles Jason placed before him. As long as Jason followed the recipe, he figured it couldn't be too bad.

"Alfred for god's sake sit down. I got this," said Jason exasperated.

"I haven't sat through breakfast in forty years," said the butler indignantly.

"Then I guess you'll be breaking the streak Alfie," said Dick walking in. Tim looked up at the current subject of his evil interest. _And poster-boy has arrived_ , thought Tim. He was wearing sage green cargo pants that were a little too tight in the glutes and a fitted gray American Eagle tee-shirt. He raked a hand through his hair as he said, "good morning." Oh, this was perfect. In typical Dick Grayson fashion, he was completely oblivious to the evil grin Jason and Tim exchanged.

"Breakfast, Dick?" asked Jason.

"No thanks, Jay." He sat on the edge of the counter beside the sink as Alfred did the dishes like he used to as a little boy. It was a habit he'd never outgrown. The other boys thought it was funny and Alfred thought it was sweet.

Right now, Jason just thought it was cruel. He had helped Tim make special super spicy waffles for Dick, but the guy wasn't cooperating. Well, Jason's plan appeared to be a strike out. He hoped Tim's master plan was better. Jason got few laughs out of life these days, but his older brother was always the exception. (The last time he laughed was when Dick serenaded Bruce with the _Strawberry Shortcake_ theme song. And maybe just a little when Bruce yelled at him for helping Damien bring 22 cats home).

Dick grabbed a cup of coffee and headed for the front door. "Later guys."

 _Drat_ , thought Jason. Despondently, he took a bite out of one of his waffles and spat it right back out again. "Damn that's hot," he gasped taking a sip of water. Tim couldn't help himself as Jason's plot backfired on him. He started laughing uncontrollably. Bruce looked up from his paper with a raised eyebrow, Alfred looked blank, and Damien said, "I knew eating Todd's cooking would be a mistake. Get me a bowl of cereal Pennyworth."

At school, Tim put his master plan in motion. He used his superior stealth skills to hack the school's security cameras during study hall and put the pictures of Dick in the girls' lockers with a note that said, "win a date to the theme park with Richard Grayson the super model. Meet Tim Drake at lunch to enter your name in a hat for a draw. PS. Be discrete, the school doesn't know about this."

Unfortunately, discrete is a word high school girls are unfamiliar with. When they opened their lockers, and found the notes there were endless girly squeals echoing through the halls. For a moment, Tim regretted his plan as he covered his ears. The chatter went something like:

"Oh, my god, look at his abs! He looks like one of Michael Angelo's sculptures."

"Are you kidding, he looks better!"

"That is perfection right there. I am so getting my name in that hat a hundred times!"

"Girl, that's not how it works."

"I can't leave it to chance. Look at him. This is hot on a whole new level!"

"Tim, Tim! Can I get my name in now?"

"Ah, sure Melisa," said Tim. Suddenly he was swarmed with eager girls and really regretting his plan. Right now, it was more pain for him than for Dick who was completely oblivious.

"Oh, Tim, how did you get him to agree to this. I mean how do you even know this hot guy. He's like 21 and you're a 16 year-old high school senior," inquired Isla.

"He's my adopted older brother," Tim explained.

"Oh, my god! How did we not know that Richard was your brother? That's like incredible. Can I have his phone number?" asked Sarah.

"Woah. Slow down girls! I'm just doing this to get him a date. He needs a woman desperately." _And a lot for revenge, but you don't need to know that._ By the end of the day, Tim had the name of every girl in school in his hat. Even some of the one's with boy friends put their names in secretly. One date with Dick was enough to drive the whole school batty.

The boys in the school were not happy with Tim at all. They rarely were. But they didn't dare do a thing to him because the girls would hate them. And possibly Dick would come over and beat them up. With a jacked figure like that, they had no doubt that he could.

The draw was broadcasted over the school speaker system. "And the winner is," said Tim, "Emma Matterson!" She was a tall blond 18-year-old senior from Tim's math class. He knew she stalked Dick on social media. He doubted Dick even knew who she was. He could hear her squeal of ecstasy from all the way down the hall. The disappointed murmurs almost drowned her out a minute later.

Step one of Tim's master plan was complete. Now for step two. Dick was really in for it this time. He'd learn his lesson after this; never mess with Timothy Drake!

 **Hey guys, if you want to know about step two let me know. Otherwise, I don't know if I'll finish this story or not because I don't know if it's quite me. Maybe in a bit.**


	4. Story 4: Revenge and Advertizing pt2

Story 4: Revenge and Advertising pt. 2

Tim stared at Emma Matterson's phone number in the back seat of the Bentley as Alfred drove him home. Tomorrow would be Friday and time to spring his revenge plot on Dick. He mused that if it had been one of his other brothers, Dick would already be dead; but unlike them, Tim had patience.

His next task was to trick Dick into meeting Emma unwittingly. That shouldn't be too hard. Dick was a genuinely trusting innocent sort of soul. Well, towards Tim anyways. He wasn't dumb of course, actually he was a genius in his own way. He just didn't show it the way Tim did. Dick liked to play things simple, sweet, and fun. Which is why it stunned him that Dick had tricked him into meeting Stephanie. Ah well, he was mischievous too unfortunately.

He looked down at his phone again. He had a text message from Jason. "How is the master plan coming general?"

"Step one complete. Dick has a date. Ready to commence step two, getting him to the date unawares till the last minute."

"Good. Let me know how I can help. I've got a plan for dinner. It's a little childish (worthy of Dick himself) but we should get some laughs out of it."

 _Oh great._ Another one of Jason's master schemes, like the jalapeño waffles. If this one backfired on him, Tim wasn't sure what he'd do. _Seriously Jay, think then act; not the other way around_. The Bentley pulled into Wayne Manor and Alfred opened the door for him.

Inside, Damien and Jason were arguing over what to do about the 21 cats in the cave. Jason still wanted to make cat-fur coats or sell them to Catwoman and Damien still insisted that they remain in the cave until they could be found proper homes. At least he was only allowed to keep Bat-cat as his own. Why did Bruce have to cave into Damien's puppy dog eyes? Maybe because it was the first time Damien had ever used that tactic.

Tim raced up stairs and called Emma. He told her that Dick would meet her at the Gotham Amusement park after school on Friday and not to worry about money because Dick would pay for everything. Her only job was to have a good time. He knew full well her personality would make this a very memorable date. She would brag to all the girls at school, some of whom would go to the park and follow them around. If he had predicted this right, and he always did, Dick would be running away from high school girls all evening.

Then Alfred called them down to dinner minutes after he got off the phone with an absolutely elated Emma who was talking non-stop. She wanted to know how to do everything right. She even asked what Dick's favorite color was so she could wear it. He wanted to say neon pink but didn't think she'd buy that so he said "red." However, now it was time to see what Jason had in mind.

He sat down at the table next to Damien because Jason had indicated that there was one chair he should leave open. Tim now had a pretty good guess what Jason was up to. He smirked at Tim from across the table when Dick entered the dining room followed by Bruce. Dick sat down next to Jason but nothing happened. Jason looked confused and surprised which is when he realized that his joke had gone horribly wrong again. Bruce sat down at the head of the table and then jumped right back up again.

"Who put tacks on my seat?" he bellowed.

"Todd did father," said Damien picking one of the tacks off the seat, "see? It's made out of bullet casing."

"Jason Peter Todd!" and here Bruce went into a rant and said a good many things that would not look at all nice in print.

After dinner, Dick walked over to Damien. "I know those were meant of me. Why did you switch them to Bruce's chair?" he inquired.

"Because I'm on your side in this. I was with Drake, but then you were so nice spending all day today trying to find homes for the cats and getting the shelter back up, that I decided I'd do something for you. And because it's always funny to see father yell at Todd. Someone needs to."

"Thanks. Tim's got a long memory and now he has Jason on his side, I think this might have turned into a war."

"You're darn right this is a war," said Tim walking up, "but I'll accept your surrender."

"No you won't."

"Yeah, you're right. It's too late for that now. The only way this can end is your complete and utter irritation and the demolition of what could have been a perfectly good evening." He spun on his heels and marched up the stairs. A storm was coming. Maybe Dick wasn't going to be as trusting as Tim had hoped but he loved a challenge. Plus, he always had Jason and his AK-47 as backup.

Friday morning, Tim got up early and sabotaged Dick's motorcycle so that Jason would have to drive him. Then he went to school and had to deal with Emma and the other girls who wanted to know if he could set them up on dates with Dick as well. He spent most of the day avoiding those girls and found that he just wanted to hang out with Stephanie.

Finally, school was over and he was taking Emma to the theme park. He called Jason and told him to bring Dick over ASAP. Then he called Dick and told him what was going on; carefully leaving out certain details. "Hey Dick, it's Tim. I'm stranded at the Gotham Amusement Park with a date. Jason is going to pick us up after he gets you." He hung up like he was still mad before his brother could ask any questions.

They found Tim and Emma at the entrance to the amusement park and walked over. "Hi Tim, who's your date?" asked Dick.

"She's not my date; she's yours." Tim's grin was positively evil. "Her name is Emma and I told her not to worry about brining money because you were going to pay for everything."

"You did what!?"

"Now Dick, calm down. After all this is a public place. It forces you to be civil." Tim's evil grin widened. Oh, the irony of it all. "You can't disappoint the lady in front of all her friends," he added. Tim indicated the gaggle of teenage girls watching them. They were trying to look like they weren't all staring at Dick's physique in his fitted tee-shirt and sweatpants that were a little too tight in all the right places. "Don't try anything funny. Jason and I have you covered. We're going incognito like Roy." Tim took out a camera.

"Timothy Drake! You are so dead when we get home!" Dick's cheeks were flushed cherry red partly from anger and partly from embarrassment as he noticed the girls talking about him and giggling. Unfortunately, the heightened color in his face was adorable.

Emma, whom they seemed to have forgotten in the moment, wrapped her arm around Dick's. She didn't seem to mind or even notice the whole conversation. "Come along Richard. Let's enjoy the day. I want to go on the spinning teacups first. They were always my favorite as a girl."

Dick couldn't resist, "and what are you now?"

"A woman, you goofball. And anyways, Tim said you'd pay."

"Yeah, I'll get us both tickets," said Dick carefully sliding his arm out from hers. He figured it was best to play along. He hadn't thought a girl as slender as Emma would have had such a grip. She was pretty, so at least that was good. But she was obviously trying too hard. Her red crop top and short shorts were a little overkill with the thick makeup and heals. Because really, who wears heals to an amusement park?

When they got off the spinning tea cups, Dick felt sick to his stomach. Emma had spent the whole time talking and he wasn't sure if it was because of her or the ride. Maybe it was her girlfriends who were snapping pictures of the two of them from the gate or the other ones who had followed them onto the ride.

"Do you want to play a game? Like ring toss or something?" he asked hopefully. Even in this situation, he was determined to be a gentleman. Maybe not the perfect date, but a gentleman.

"Oh, I'd love to. Let's do the archery one." Dick's lessons with Roy Harper had payed off. He shot the bull's eye every time despite Emma's blowing into his ear for good luck. He won a huge stuffed Hello Kitty doll which he gave to Emma and still had to carry. It was then that Dick got a perfectly horrible wonderful idea.

"Hey Emma, I'm going to get us some ice cream. I'll be right back," he promised. She was reluctant to let him out of her sight. But he was a man of his word and would return. But first, he called Damien at home. "Damien?"

"Yes Grayson. What do you want?"

"Are you in for some messing around with Tim?"

"Of course, I am. What is the plan?"

"Call Barbra and get her to send you all of her old Hello Kitty bedding and decorations. And her Justin Bieber posters. And see if she'll give you the fuzzy pink rug and the Clara nightgown. Then redecorate Tim's room. The more like a teenage girl's room, the better."

"I'm on it Grayson. Drake will want to kill you rather desperately after this stunt."

"I'm counting on it." He bought an ice cream for himself and one for Emma and then returned. "Sorry it took so long."

"That's fine," said Emma. She didn't get to say anything else because they were swarmed by the girls from school. They all wanted pictures with Dick or to ask him stupid questions. They had stalking him on Facebook it seemed. _Note to self: change to a private account._ He grabbed Emma's hand and they bolted. After this first episode, it became a routine for the rest of the evening.

As soon as they were a safe distance from the girls, Dick stopped running. Beside him, Emma was laughing, "I felt like a celebrity racing away from fans on the red carpet. That was amazing. Well, there wasn't really a red carpet of course and they weren't really after me but it was still amazing."

Dick was flabbergasted. A narrow escape from energized teenage girls was amazing _?! I'd hate to find out what her definition of bad is._ "It won't be so amazing if they find us."

"I've got it, let's hide in there." She pointed to his worst nightmare.

"The tunnel of love?!" _Oh great, out of the frying pan and into the oven._ "I can't go in there, I have claustrophobia."

"Don't worry. I'll hold your hand," Emma promised. She dragged him toward the ride and he caved in. Dick could just see Tim and Jason laughing their heads off right now. Emma kept her promise and held his hand.

"Look, I know you don't want to be here with me. I kind of figured out that your brother didn't tell you he set this up. He just told me you needed a woman," said Emma. She wasn't as stupid as some people thought she was. Or as self-absorbed as she might appear on the surface.

"Yeah. You kind of got caught in a battle between the two of us. And I'm sorry for that. It isn't right."

She laughed. "I've had a silly crush on you since I saw you molding for Abercrombie. I thought winning Tim's raffle and meeting you would be great. And it is. You're every bit as hot as I knew you were. But that doesn't matter so much if you don't want to be here. I'll let you go after the ride ends."

Well now he just felt like a jerk. He and Tim both were by dragging her into this. "You know it's not a great feeling getting a surprise date set up by your younger brother. But as it turns out, I'm not sorry it was you. Emma, will you finish out the evening with me?"

Her eyes glowed. "I'd love to." And they did. Emma learned to see past his abs and he learned that she was a funny caring person under her silliness and make up. They had a wonderful time. Nothing would ever happen between them, except a cordial friendship but that was ok. On a side note; they did manage to get away from the other fangirls thankfully.

"Emma was pretty cool," said Dick on the drive home, "thanks Tim." Tim grumbled a little. They got back to the manor after dark. Alfred was waiting for them and wondering where they had been. Dick went and found Damien.

"Is operation Hello Kitty a go?" he asked. Damien didn't need to answer. From upstairs in his room, Tim shouted, "DICK!" And the war continued.

 **Author's note:**

 **I hope you laughed. If you are so inclined, I'd love to hear your thoughts. Thanks for reading.**

 **Up next:** ** _Under the Stars._** **Alfred talks Bruce into taking the boys on a camping trip to bring them all closer together. Everything that can go wrong goes wrong from stowaways and pranks to rain and loud snoring. Fun for the whole family; or mostly.**


	5. Story 5: Under the Stars

Story 5: _Under the Stars_

"I think you should consider it, sir," said Alfred sliding the cup of hot tea in front of Bruce.

"Why? It's a little too late. Dick and Jason are already grown up (or as grown up as they'll ever be), Tim's incredibly mature for his age, and Damien just won't appreciate it," Bruce reasoned. "Besides, what do we have in common besides the night crusades?"

"I don't know. What do fathers usually do with their sons?"

"I'm not going to play Bat-daddy, Alfred. I got them all back home and that's the end of it."

"No sir, that was the beginning of it. You know, the only reason you are still on speaking terms with them and they're still here is because Master Richard holds you all together."

"Well, then he's doing a great job."

"Sir. Just try to keep your family together. It's best for you and for them. Just look at what happened to you, Dick, and Jason those two years you weren't talking. Master Jason turned into a killer, Dick became a model, then a police officer and you became intolerable."

"I'm always intolerable. I'm Batman. It's the way I like it. People are less likely to annoy me," Bruce turned his chair slightly away from Alfred.

"Master Bruce!"

"Ok. I'll take them camping in the mountains. My father and I did it once and we had a fantastic time. It's one of my best memories now. Happy?"

"Very good, sir," said Alfred as if he had just been told to take Bruce's shirt to the drycleaners; just like that, he was back to being the respectful butler. He left the room with his serving tray and Bruce went back to reading over the finances for his company. Later that evening, he would call all the boys together and tell them that they were going camping.

"Boys, were going together on a camping trip up in the mountains. I think it will be good for us to spend…some time together," announced Bruce.

Jason snorted. "We live together, and that's all the time I need with you lot."

"Father, this is unnecessary," Damien informed him, "spending time in the wild has no value."

"But why not go just to have fun?" countered Dick, "you guys do know what that is right? When you do something because you might have a good time. Laugh, joke around, and no one telling us to be proper indoor people. No offence Alfred."

"Non taken, sir," said Alfred. Whatever it took to get them all away from being cooped up in Gotham fighting each other.

"Of course I know what fun is," said Damien, "fun is when you pull a really good prank on Drake and you watch him die."

"Well, yes, that's one way to have fun," Tim deadpanned, "oh what the heck, I'll go."

"As will I. If Drake is going, someone will have to take care of you guys," Damien piped in.

"I'm in too," said Jason, "at least if I shoot a bear, no one will be mad at me for killing it."

"Unless it's Poison Ivy pretended to be a bear," Dick joked.

The next day, Bruce told the office that he was going away for a long weekend with his boys and wouldn't come in on Friday. Alfred spent most of the day running around telling them what to pack, making lists, cleaning out the sleeping bags, and making sure the tents were in good order. He got the fishing gear prepared and made sure the flash lights all had new batteries. Then they packed up the truck (which no one ever drove anymore but it had belonged to Bruce's father so he refused to get rid of it) and drove off.

Damien was rather put out that he had to sit between Tim and Dick in the back seat. However, as the biggest and grumpiest, it made sense to put Jason up in front. Damien vowed that one day he would be bigger than Todd, but that was a long way off, so Jason ignored him. Tim rested his head against the window for most of the three-hour drive and tried not to throw-up from motion sickness or irritate Damien more than necessary. Bruce was mostly silent and steadfastly refused to turn the radio on.

Only Dick was as chipper as ever. He didn't seem to mind the long drive or the cramped back seat. That wasn't true. If everyone else had been a little more sociable, he would have demanded that Jason move his seat forward so that he didn't have to sit cross legged for hours. But as it was, he took it upon himself to be the cheerful one. He knew from spending years on the road with his parents that the best traveling companions don't complain. So, he didn't.

Instead he brought along a joke book and entertained them. "I took the shell off my racing snail thinking it would make him faster," said Dick, "if anything it made him more sluggish." He laughed a little. "Oh Jay, you might like this one; what did one john (toilet) say to the other?"

"Shut up. It's a great punchline," said Jason.

"Wrong. It said, 'What's wrong with you, you look a little flushed.'"

"Oh ha, ha."

"Oh, here's a good one. What is the website Chewbacca used to leak information about the Empire?"

"Can't imagine," said Tim dryly.

"Wookieleaks!"

Jason groaned. "Let me see that book," Dick gave it to him hesitantly. Jason started laughing as he read aloud, "apparently, someone in London get stabbed every 54 seconds. [pause] Poor bastard." Ok, he was mildly entertained by Dick's joke book; not that he'd ever admit it. Tim was grateful because it took his mind off the winding mountain road. For a guy who spent so much time jumping off buildings, it was funny that he got motion sick. Bruce laughed at some of them on the inside but he was being a stinker too.

Finally, they arrived. The campsite Bruce had in mind was only a short hike away. Dick leapt out and stretched his legs and Tim got out rather shakily. They grabbed their gear and followed Bruce up the incline. "My father took me here once," said Bruce, "the trip in still one of my best memories." Dick smiled but didn't say anything.

They came out into a small clearing by a little lake of clear green water. The dense forest of pines came up almost to the little beach. A huge protruding rock made the perfect place to stand while fishing. It was a perfect picture except for the gray sky. The gang dropped their gear and started unpacking which was when Tim noticed something moving in a pocket in Damien's bag. He jumped back when his investigation revealed two kittens that had "stowed away". "Damien! What are the cats doing here?"

"Lewis and Clark are just here to explore the shore and because I needed some good company on this trip. You don't expect me to spend all my time with you guys, do you?" Damien said by way of explanation. "By the way, we only have two tents, so who gets stuck with who?"

Bruce answered, "I'm Batman so I get my own tent. You boys can do some bonding and share the big one."

"Yeah, because that makes so much sense," said Jason sarcastically. He grumbled as he helped Dick set up the tent. They pulled out the pieces and laid everything flat, while Tim and Damien kept unpacking, gathering firewood, and arguing about cats.

"Oh drat, I remembered the cookbook and forgot the frying pan. I feel so dumb right now," exclaimed Tim.

"Don't feel too bad," said Dick as he continued to struggle with the tent, "some of the smartest men in history forgot stupid things. Einstein once left the house without his pants!"

"That means nothing to me."

"Well, it meant something to him," muttered Dick.

"You didn't forget Drake, I took it out and put cat-food in," confessed Damien. "There wasn't room in my bag and I won't feed Lewis and Clark smores."

"You what!?" shouted Tim. For the next fifteen minutes while Dick and Jason worked together to put up the tent, Tim and Damien battled it out. Tim with the center post to Bruce's tent and Damien with his sword. The battle ended when Tim knocked Damien into the tent Jason and Dick had finally put up making it collapse completely. Bruce, Jason, and Dick towered over them seriously annoyed. Only Tim had the decency to look sheepish when he handed the center post to Bruce.

"I can't believe Damien did that! How are we supposed to cook anything?" wined Tim.

"He screwed with your gear so I say we screw with his. Let's put a snake in his bag," suggested Jason.

"It will eat Lewis and Clark and then Damien will kill all of us. Did you forget we have to share a tent?" Dick put in, "he's helping Bruce with the other tent, so let's take all his clothes out and hide them around the forest." Tim and Jason agreed to this plan. They all knew it was incredibly childish, but when they became crimefighters at ten-years-old, they missed part of their childhood. So, Dick figured their plan was acceptable compensation.

Damien spent the next hour or so hunting for his clothes. He found them all, except for his boxer shorts which an eagle had flown away with and incorporated into its nest. He only stopped long enough to shout death threats to his brothers from the forest. For his part, Bruce stayed out of the whole incident. His face was stern and blank as always until he went into his tent. Then he fell to his knees and laughed. Sometimes he thought the other boys were the best thing for Damien. No one would have crossed him like that while he was living with his mother and grandfather. Only the other Robins could pull such stunts.

After both the tents were set up (Jason refused to help the second time) and the fire pit was ready, Bruce got out the fishing gear and showed the boys how to catch dinner. He couldn't believe he had never thought to take Dick or Jason before. He really enjoyed teaching them and they shared many laughs together. Jason didn't have the necessary patience to fish, so he put on his trunks and went for a swim.

They only had one "accident" with the fishing episode. Dick couldn't resist. When Damien prepared to cast his pole, he hooked it onto the back of Tim's swim trunks. When Damien tried to cast the hook out into the water, the unexpected jerk pulled Tim off his feet with an ungraceful thud. Damien tried to pull the line loose, but unfortunately it ripped free. Well, at least now Tim's shorts had ventilation in case it got too hot. He wasn't very pleased with Dick and they got into a water war.

By the end of the day, they had enough fish to make for dinner. Bruce had caught most of them and was secretly pleased when Dick wanted to take a picture of him holding the huge trout. Unfortunately, Damien had swapped the frying pan for cat-food; and it still made no sense because the cats wanted to eat the fish. So, the cook book wasn't any real use and they had to invent a way to cook the fish on a spit. It was harder than it looked.

"Anyone for charcoal trout?" asked Dick. "It's not so bad once you get past the ashes." Damien wanted to say something smart to this comment, but Bruce accepted the burnt fish and ate it like it was one of Alfred's delicacies. That's how it was when you caught the fish yourself.

The smores that Alfred packed were way better than the fish. Unfortunately, Damien thought it would be funny to put a spider in Jason's smore and it didn't go over well. The battle only ended because Dick got out a ukulele and started playing campfire songs. His voice wasn't at all bad and neither was his playing, but they all had to complain about it, except Bruce. It provided something for Damien and Jason to agree on and they spent the time screwing up the lyrics on Dick and teasing him.

The songs got a little out of hand when Dick played Jingle Bells and Jason and Tim started sinning the alternate Batman lyrics, "jingle bells, Batman smells…" Bruce wasn't very amused. Blast the internet these days. But, it still might have been a good night except that storm clouds rolled in and covered the stars.

"It's going to rain," Bruce pronounced, "you all better get into your tent and off to bed." He stalked off to his tent and zipped it shut behind him. Still grumpy old Bruce. And just when you thought you got through to him too.

They boys all headed off to their tent. Damien grabbed Lewis and Clark and brought them along. "Those cats can't stay in here," Tim protested with a sneeze, "I'll never get any sleep."

"Who cares?" demanded Damien, "they can't sleep outside."

"Tim's right, Damien. But we'll make them their own tent," said Dick. Damien didn't like that very much because he wanted to cuddle them, however, Dick had a point. If Drake couldn't sleep because he was sneezing the whole time, neither could anyone else. So, they made a cat-tent out of an old hollow log, some slicks, Damien's sleeping bag cover, and Dick's rain coat. They finished just in time too because it started to rain or rather pour.

There was a lot of arguing as they tried to change into their pajamas and get comfortable. They started a pillow fight. It dislodged the center post and made the tear in roof a lot bigger. It had been there since Damien's sword put it there during his fight with Tim. But at this point, the tent might as well have been a convertible. Damien, Tim, and Jason all managed to get into their rain coats before they were too badly soaked but poor Dick didn't have one. On the bright side, at least the cats were dry.

"I say we invade Bruce's tent," said Dick who was soaked through. Everyone agreed to this and Bruce was soon bombarded by four boys dripping wet coming out of the deluge.

"What is going on here?" he demanded.

"These two idiots put a hole in the roof of our tent," Jason explained.

"And we're soaked, so we're invading," finished Dick. He was shivering and soaked through. Curse having to make a tent for those cats. However, the sight made something soften inside Bruce.

"Well I guess you have to stay here then," he conceded, "but I'm not moving." The boys took off their rain coats and plopped their sleeping bags down. Damien settled down between Bruce and the wall of the tent. Jason just flopped down in the middle of the tent so Tim chose to get between Jason and the other wall. That left Dick to squeeze in between Bruce and Jason.

"Dick, you can't sleep in that," said Bruce, "I don't want you to catch a cold." He whipped off Dick's pajama shirt and gave him a huge dry sweater. He threw the shirt out into the rain and got a modicum of satisfaction from it. Why did Dick still tease him by wearing a Superman shirt? He should have out grown it by now.

Bruce looked around the tent. Damien was curled up on one side of him and on the other, Dick was settled peacefully swimming in Bruce's big sweater. He could easily imagine the nine-year-old he had taken in after the tragedy. Jason was stretched out flat on his back. He looked younger asleep than he did while he was shooting at people. Tim looked kind of fragile beside Jason and under huge blankets. He wasn't but he looked it in the dim lighting. Ok, so maybe Bruce was going to play daddy-bats. _Just a little_ , he promised himself.

He might have gone to sleep all warm and fuzzy inside, except that Jason snored. And loudly. Tim was covering his ears with his pillow, but Bruce figured if he couldn't sleep, then neither could Jason. So, he started exaggerating his own snoring. It had kind of turned into a contest which annoyed Dick, Tim, and Damien to no end.

The next morning, they argued about who snored louder. Damien said it was Bruce, but that's because he was sleeping next to his father. Tim said it was Jason, but he was sleeping next to Jason. They asked Dick because he was between the two, but Dick just said he didn't know because he was still deaf from the combined barrage.

By the end of the trip, Bruce was more comfortable with his role as 'daddy-bats' and Dick didn't have to try so hard to keep everyone together. They were all a little sorry to pack everything up and go home on Sunday. "If anyone asks I'll deny ever having said this; but, that was fun," said Jason as he got into the truck.

"I'm glad," said Dick, "oh and Jason, one thing."

"What?"

"Move your seat up."

 **Author's Note:**

 **Up Next _: Jason the Babysitter_. Bruce leaves Jason in charge to "babysit" his brothers because Dick is badly injured, Alfred is sick, and Damien is Damien. Is he up for the challenge? **

**Or: _Ace_. Tim and Jason team up to get rid of Damien's cats once and for all. Jason brings home Ace the bat-dog to take care of the problem with disastrous results. **

**Your choice of story. If you have an opinion one way or the other let me know. Thanks for your time.**


	6. Story 6: Ace

Story 6: _Ace_

The Batmobile pulled into the cave from a night out on patrol. The canopy raised and Batman stepped out followed by Robin and Red Robin. Moments later, a sleek black motorcycle with bright blue stripes zoomed in at breakneck speed and parked beside the Batmobile. It was followed closely by a louder red one which came to a screeching halt alongside the first.

Nightwing removed his helmet and shook out the helmet hair. "Beet ya again, Hood," he grinned.

"Next time, you have to ride on the street and not along the roof-tops, you stunt man," grumbled Red Hood.

"You're just jealous because I can get my bike to do cooler things than you can," teased Dick as he pulled off his domino mask revealing sparkling blue eyes.

"Seriously you two, racing motorcycles home every night is dangerous. The odds that one of you will get hurt are extremely high," Red Robin put in.

"Who asked you?" snarled Jason.

"Tim's right," Bruce interjected removing his cowl, "it's not very clever. You put yourselves in enough danger every night without racing home like a couple of hooligans. This crusade is not a joke."

"Says the man who stalks around Gotham in a bat costume," mumbled Dick. Bruce glared at him but Dick ignored it. They all walked up to the second level of the cave and started removing their gear transforming from crimefighters to ordinary men and boys. Alfred was waiting for them with towels and hot tea. He wrinkled his nose in disgust when he picked up Red Hood's jacket and under shirt. He'd wash it with the most powerful soap he had and even that might not get rid of the lovely aroma.

Alfred began walking up the stairs back to the mansion with a load of laundry and a tray of teacups. Behind him, Tim and Dick followed. Tim couldn't be down in the cave for very long anymore since the cats moved in. Damien still refused to give them up until he was sure they had a good home. Tim sneezed almost every other step. He hated those cats. Hated them.

"When can we finally get rid of these cats?" he demanded exasperated.

"Soon," Bruce promised. He plucked Fluffy (the white cat) off his chair and sat down at the batcomputer. He was almost as annoyed as Tim, Alfred, and Jason. He really did feel bad for Tim and his allergies.

"Why can't they stay in the yard?" Tim pressed.

"Because there is a giant gofer-sake out there," explained Damien, "they need a _safe_ home."

"How about the Gotham Animal Cemetery?" Jason suggested.

"Not funny Todd."

But no matter what Damien said, those cats had to go. The next morning, Jason was cleaning his shotgun at the breakfast table. Dick raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything. He was gone before Damien even had the chance to say, "good morning." Tim pretended like it was nothing out of the ordinary. And since he had spent a few days at Jason's apartment, he knew it wasn't out of the ordinary. Bruce, however, looked concerned.

"Jason, where are you going with that shotgun?" he asked when Jason got up to leave.

"I'm going to burry that snake in its own hole," replied Jason coolly. He cocked the gun's bolt into place, "I wonder if snakes get irony." He marched off into the yard. Not ten minutes later they heard a loud bang. Jason walked back into the kitchen carrying what was left of the snake. He flung it on the table. "I found dinner." Alfred let out an appalled squeal and Tim tried not to gag at the notion.

"I don't care what you do Todd, the cats are not leaving," said Damien sternly. He glared dangerously at Jason and Tim.

"Play nice boys," Bruce reminded them as he stood. "I'm off to the office, I'll see you all later." He folded the newspaper carefully on the table and straightened his tie. With a look of disgust, he picked up one end of the snake between his thumb and forefinger. "And Jason, get rid of this!"

Jason scowled, but slung the snake over his shoulder and launched it back into the yard. Apparently, those cats were staying in the cave. He had just made the yard safe and still they couldn't be outdoor cats. He figured that even if Dick found a place that would take them, Damien would still insist that they stay. But that didn't mean Jason was about to give up.

He pulled Tim aside. "If we can't get rid of the cats ourselves, we're going to need to hire outside help."

"Yeah, now you're starting to sound like criminals who want to eliminate their enemy without getting their hands dirty," said Tim folding his arms across his chest.

"You sound disapproving," Jason observed, "I'm not talking about killing anyone. Our war is with cats; even Batman isn't interested in cat-murderers."

"Damien is. It will be us versus Damien and probably Dick."

"Well that's the beauty of hiring outside help, we have one more asset on our side," said Jason conspiratorially.

"Master Tim, you'll be late for school," called Alfred.

"Not now, Alfred. We're plotting," shouted Jason.

"Very good sir. I will inform Master Timothy's teachers immediately. I'm sure they will be most understanding," Alfred deadpanned.

"Ok what's the plan; and it had better be quick," hissed Tim.

"If we can't shoot them and we can't turn them loose in the yard, then there is only one thing to do; hire a professional cat-killer. A dog. They are the very best in the cat-killing business," Jason declared.

"A dog. Great. I'm sure you can find one for hire in every sleazy bar in Gotham."

"No sarcasm Tim. I'm serious."

"Well, since it's the best plan we've got, I'm all in. Just try to be inconspicuous."

Alfred drove Tim and Damien to school, Bruce was at work, and Dick was playing cops and robbers in Bludhaven. That left Jason alone to hatch his schemes. If there was one thing Jason Todd was good at it was getting rid of things he didn't like. He grabbed the keys to the truck and headed off to the best place to find a professional cat-killer, the kennel.

He got back from his excursion to find the perfect dog about the same time Alfred got back with Tim and Damien. At least Bruce and Dick were still at work. He was a little irritated with himself that he couldn't have been a little faster. _Was he turning into Damien with his dog? Nope._ Jason shook that horrible thought out of his head. His time searching all the kennels in Gotham paid off. He now had the perfect dog. His name was Ace.

Jason pulled into the garage as quietly as he could. Then he opened the door for Ace. He nearly had a heart attack when Tim snuck up behind him. It was that feeling everyone gets when they're caught doing something they'd rather not be caught doing. He turned fiercely on Tim.

"I take it this is your secret weapon," said Tim. The huge shaggy pooch looked kind of impressive; or might have if it wasn't drooling onto Tim's shoe.

"Meet Ace," said Jason proudly. "Now you just have to help me seek him past Alfred into the cave." Unfortunately, that was easier said than done. Tim scouted the area and Jason followed holding onto Ace's collar. The footfalls of the boys were silent but Ace's paws were not as quiet. He hadn't been trained by Batman and it was glaringly apparent to Tim and Jason.

They almost made it into Bruce's study where the clock and secret entrance to the cave were, when Ace spotted Bat-cat curled up on a leather armchair. He jolted forward forcing Jason to lose his grip on the collar. With a terrifying snarl, Ace threw himself at Bat-cat. Well, so much for quietly turning the dog loose in the cave.

Bat-cat hissed and arched her back. All of her fur was on edge before she threw herself off the chair just in time. The only cat they didn't want to get killed was Bat-cat. Damien was still allowed one even by Jason and Tim's book and Bat-cat was the only one that didn't make Tim sneeze. "Ace come back here!" shouted Jason as the dog chased Bat-cat out of the study.

Not ten seconds later they heard Damien throwing things at Ace and shouting, "desist foul animal or I'll run you through!" Both boys raced after the animals and found that they were too late to save the integrity of the living room (again). This was not the plan. They cringed as Bat-cat ran into the kitchen closely followed by Ace. "Todd! Drake! You are behind this plot. Prepare to die if your dog kills Bat-cat!"

In the kitchen, Alfred was making a double chocolate cake for desert when he was joined by to wild animals. Bat-cat leaped up on the counter and he had to snatch the newly frosted cake out of the way before it was trampled underfoot. A lot of good it did him as she sailed from the counter and landed in front of him. To get to the cat, Ace had to go through Alfred. So, he did. Tim and Jason arrived just in time to watch Ace upset the butler's balance. They cringed as Alfred faceplanted into the beautiful cake. All that work; a really pity actually. Maybe they'd have a funeral for the cake latter. Then again, if this continued, it would by Tim and Jason's funeral.

"Are you alright Alfred?" asked Tim helping the old man to his feet.

"Who let that dog in here?" Alfred demanded wiping frosting from his face.

"We got the dog to get rid of the cats. You're welcome," said Jason.

"Unfortunately, there was a minor glitch in our plan," Tim added.

"Minor glitch!?" roared Alfred. Ok, so maybe it was a huge mistake, but people learn from those so it wasn't a big deal, right? Wrong. It wasn't long before they heard a ruckus upstairs. "Go get those animals!"

As they bolted towards the sound, Tim glared at Jason. "This is all your fault!" he accused.

"My fault! You were the scout. You should have said something like 'cat at three O'clock, wait till I give the all clear'!" snapped Jason.

"Why would I say that? It's 4:57," Tim countered. The second floor was already a shambles when they arrived. They couldn't tell how much damage was done by the animals and how much had been done by Damien and his sword. Before they could even get onto the fray, Bat-cat and Ace raced past them back down the stairs and into the study.

The clock slid back from the wall and Dick appeared. He was positively glowing as he stepped into the room. "Hey guys, I just found a good place in Bludhave that will take the cats!" His good-natured expression faltered when Bat-cat dashed between his legs into the cave. He was promptly knocked over by a determined hound desperately chasing the cat. Dick fell backwards down a few steps and landed in a heap on the small landing. He looked up at his brothers in a daze.

"Don't just sit there Grayson!" shouted Damien, "grab that dog!" Damien raced past him into the cave which had been thrown into complete chaos. Cats flew this way and that and a huge dog dashed around knocking over everything in his path as he pursued one target to the next.

"I don't think this was a very good plan," admitted Tim as he stared into the cave.

"Nope, it's working perfectly now," said Jason, he started back up the stairs.

"Jason!" called Tim, "help up catch Ace! Dick said he found a place for the cats."

"This was a plan!?" Dick looked shocked, dazed, confused, and upset. To add to his confusion, Alfred dashed past him covered in chocolate something or other, carrying a broomstick like a bayonet. Below them, Damien had nearly gotten a hold of Ace's collar when the cats swarmed up the stairs and out of the cave. Despite his death threats, Damien didn't really want to kill the dog any more than he wanted to kill the cats. The only people he planned to kill at this moment were the evil master minds, Tim Drake and Jason Todd.

So, this is what Bruce saw when he got home from the office; 22 cats racing around his house, a dog chasing the cats, Damien chasing the dog, Alfred and his broomstick chasing Damien, Tim running after Alfred, Jason running after Tim, and Dick leaned up against the wall trying to figure out what the heck was going on. Bruce himself joined in the chase and the yelling at the top of his bat-voice in the wake of the storm.

To describe the trouble Jason and Tim were in after this whole affair would be rather tedious. It will suffice to say that they never got such a harebrained scheme again. Bruce wasn't so mad at their attempting to kill the cats as he was at the second destruction of his house and the loss of his chocolate cake. Jason and Tim got to help Alfred clean the house while Dick, Bruce, and Damien drove the cats up to the shelter in Bludhaven. They were both grounded for two weeks (for Jason this looked like Bruce taking the keys to his motorcycle). And then they were sent to bed without their supper. On the bright side, Bat-cat survived and Ace was somehow allowed to stay.

"Hey Jason," said Tim as he swept the cat fur off the foyer's floor, "now that you and Damien have pets, do you think I can have a mouse?"

"I'll get one for you," Jason promised.

"You do that, and I'll serve it to you in your milk," threatened Alfred. He inspected Jason's work mopping the cake off the floor. "You missed a spot."

 **Author's note: Hope you had as much fun reading this as I had writing it.**

 **Up Next: Jason the Babysitter**


	7. Story 7: Jason the Babysitter

**Story 7: Jason the Babysitter**

When he woke up, Nightwing discovered two very important things. The first thing being that he was no longer lying like roadkill in a back ally in Gotham. The second and more baffling thing was that he was somehow upside down and his head kept bumping against something soft and black. How he had arrived in this particular predicament he found utterly baffling. However, he managed to deduce that he had been slung over someone's shoulder and carried away. The big black thing was Batman's cape. He supposed he could take a modicum of comfort from that considering all the other people it could have been. Unfortunately, this revelation didn't explain much; he still couldn't remember what happened and why he wasn't able to walk himself.

"Um, can you put me down now?" he asked.

Batman jumped at the sound of his voice but continued steadily on his chosen path. "No."

"Nice going out there, Grayson. Once again you prove to the world your superior skills at getting beaten up," said Robin dryly as he removed his mask. He tried to look his brother in the face as he was carried up the stairs. The angle (Dick being upside-down and all) made it impossible.

"Don't be too hard on him, Damien," Tim put in, "he did save your butt from Bane. You were almost street pizza yourself."

"I would have moved," Damien snapped, "if it wasn't for Grayson's fascination with doing a horrible job trying to save me." Damien was playing tough but to those who knew him, it was obvious he was just hiding his concern under a layer of callousness. At this point, Dick lost consciousness again.

He woke up again at noon the next day. Bruce was sitting by his bed and Damien was sitting on his bed. Alfred was also nearby doing something outside his line of sight. He shifted painfully. Everything hurt. "What happened? I feel like I was hit by an ice-cream truck."

"An ice-cream truck? Really, Dick?" asked Jason walking in.

"I like to think happy thoughts," Dick defended himself. Jason just facepalmed.

"Your chest was crushed by Bane. You broke six ribs and had some internal damage as well. Alfred and Leslie fixed you up," Bruce explained.

"Did Bane get away?" asked Dick.

"Of course not!" said Damien indignantly, "no thanks to you. I couldn't even finish the fight because I had to look after you."

Alfred finally came into Dick's view. He looked terrible. His skin looked clammy, his eyes were cloudy and ringed with deep purple circles. To Dick's still addled brain, the closest thing he could compare the man to at the moment was a racoon. Poor Alfred. "If that will be all sir, I'll go and pack your things for Washington," he addressed Bruce.

"I'll pack for myself Alfred. You should get some rest."

"Sir, I don't require rest until you are settled and out the door."

"Don't worry about me. I'm taking Tim with me. He'll be able to find our elusive hacker and thief faster than anyone else." Tim gawked at Bruce. They were going on a business trip while Dick was badly injured and Alfred was sick. That was just asking for trouble.

"But Bruce, if we leave, who will take care of Dick and Alfred and run the house?" Tim wanted to know.

"Jason will be in charge," Bruce pronounced. "He can take care of Dick and Alfred and make sure Damien gets to school."

Jason spat his soda in a fountain that misted over Bruce and Dick before he started coughing. "Say what now? What an appalling notion! I can't babysit them while you and Tim are galivanting around Washington looking for some Wayne Tech hacker!" he choked.

"It's only for a couple days."

"I must protest, sir. I don't need anyone to take care of me," said Alfred indignantly.

"Father, I do not require a sitter. And I certainly don't need Todd!" declared Damien hotly. "I can look after Grayson and Pennyworth myself. And I certainly know how to get to school. If anything, Todd is the one we should watch!"

"Now just one moment there demon-boy-" Jason began.

"Enough!" shouted Bruce. The room instantly went silent. "This is my house, my family, and my rules. Jason will take care of things here and all three of you are going to listen to him. Jason, you will be responsible and make sure Alfred doesn't do anything stupid, like try to clean while he's sick. And don't let Dick up before he's recovered enough. Watch Damien like a hawk. Tim, you come with me. Go back your bags; we leave in two hours."

Two hours later, Bruce and Tim were out the door on the way to the airport. Alfred was in bed with a hot water bottle and moaning in his sleep. Jason guessed he was having a nightmare about what the kitchen would look like when he was well enough to return to cooking. Damien was in Dick's room and they were watching Disney's _Tarzan_. Jason groaned at the movies Dick liked to watch. He could be such a child sometimes. Damien complained too, but he was secretly enjoying it.

Jason decided to make some chicken soup for Alfred. He got out a chicken, a gallon of water, some vegetables, and a bottle of beer (the beer was for him). He took the cookbook down from the top shelf and tied the apron around his waist. He could hear Dick laughing upstairs. He heard Damien start to laugh but the boy quickly suppressed the sound and said instead, "this is meaningless Grayson." Jason shook his head, popped the lid off the beer and began to read the directions in the cookbook.

After a while, Jason started reading the book like this:

Step 1: Pour water in the pot

Step 2: chug beer

Step 3: put chicken in the water

Step 4: chug beer

Step 5: turn on water stove

Step 6: bug cheer

Step 7: put water in vegetables and boil salt

Step 8: high beer poor chicken in broth vegetables on

Step 9: chub geer

Step 10: let beer simmer for 20 hours

Set 11: chug beer, leave chicken soup on the stove all night and pass out on the couch

The next morning, Jason woke up at 11:30 on the couch. He nearly panicked when he looked at the clock. He raced into the kitchen. His chicken broth had boiled over and was all over the floor. He clamped his hands over his head in dismay. What a mess! And what a headache he had. _Note to self, lay off the beer for a bit._

There was a note from Damien on the refrigerator. It said, "nice going Todd. You're off to a great start. I'm at school but when I come home, I plan to kill you for not doing your job and taking care of Grayson. Your death, Damien Wayne."

Oh no, thought Jason desperately. He charged upstairs into Dick's room, but stopped short. It looked like Dick had just fallen asleep again. That wasn't bad. It looked like someone (not him obviously) had taken care of things up here. No need to worry on this end till Damien got back.

Jason took a deep breath. But his relief was short lived when he heard a vacuum cleaner in the other room. Alfred. He bolted for the inhouse movie theatre to find the butler vacuuming cat fur off the floor. If it was possible he looked worse than the day before.

"Damn, Alfred! What are you doing!" he screamed.

"Vacuuming Master Jason. I suggest you have your eyes checked."

"My eyes are fine, but your hearing isn't. Bruce said you weren't supposed to do any cleaning until you are better. And you are not better." Alfred ignored him, so Jason yanked the plug out of the electrical socket and glared at the old man. Alfred glared back, but he wasn't himself and couldn't hold the stare. Jason dragged the man off to his room and promised to bring him some tea. When he returned with the tea, Alfred had a list of chores for him to do.

At school, Damien devised a plan to mess with Todd. He invited or rather demanded that his classmates return to the manor with him for a swim. The manor had in indoor pool and an outdoor pool; both were perfect for parties. When he and his friends got back, Jason was still wearing the apron and covered head to toe in four, soot, and lint. The kitchen was a wreck and the living room was sparsely populated with piles of laundry.

Jason stopped in the middle of the floor with a pile of clothes in his hands and a cigarette in his mouth when he saw Damien. But it wasn't Damien that petrified him; it was the gaggle of middle school students in their swimsuits that got his attention. Jason glared at Damien. This was obviously the way the little demon child had planned to kill him. Jason thought about going for his guns.

"These unavoidable irritants are my guests and they will be staying for a swim. Todd, you will help me entertain them," said Damien.

Jason was flabbergasted. "Get these pests out of here before I call the exterminator!" Without another word, Damien pushed past Jason and headed upstairs to check on Dick and change into his swim trunks. He didn't want his classmates over for any other reason than to make things miserable for his older brother.

Meanwhile downstairs, the kids started running around and exploring the house. They were loud. Really loud. The only reason Jason didn't react immediately to that was because he was still in a state of horrified shock. However, he soon found himself chasing kids around and shouting things like, "don't jump on the couch; no mooning the neighbors through the window; hey, don't mess with Ace and put Bat-cat down this instant!"

The ruckus brought Alfred out of bed. He was still dressed in his nightcap and powering gown (very English). He looked frail and sickly, however, he also wore a look of determination and carried a shotgun. Jason laughed at the sight. He was picturing Alfred as Elmer Fudd going downstairs to shoot Buggs Bunny for imposing on his beauty sleep. "Master Jason, what in heaven's name is going on down here! Who are these hooligans?"

"They're Damien's guests. I'll give you a lifetime supply of tea if you shoot them all," replied Jason.

"Master Jason!"

"Well, it was worth a shot," he shrugged. You just can't win them all, but that didn't mean he wouldn't try. First the cats, then the cats plus dog, and now kids. Bruce was just never going to have a nice quiet house as long as the boys were living with him.

Damien took his classmates to the indoor pool. They were all very impressed and eager to play in it. They needed a life guard and adult supervision because there was no way on Earth that they were going to be well behaved. But Jason couldn't watch them because another problem walked down the stairs and demanded his immediate attention.

"Why are the cats back and who taught them to speak English? It wasn't Alfred, their grammar is too bad," said Dick sleepily. He stood halfway down the stairs and swayed on his feet. He was completely out of it.

"Go back to bed, idiot!" shouted Jason. He didn't have time to deal with this.

"But why are the cats back?" Dick pressed.

"They're not cats, they're kids."

"As in goats?"

"No, human children who are about to die. One demon-child in particular," Jason explained starting towards Dick before he collapsed. There were obviously too many drugs in his system. Another failure of Jason's because he was supposed to keep an eye on the IV. He carefully let Dick fall over his shoulder and started carrying him back up the stairs. Unfortunately, Dick seemed to have plans of his own and started thrashing around to get down. He kicked his legs and beat his fists on Jason's back. That was it; no more drugs for Dick. Jason put his brother back in bed and told him to stay put. They could still hear the commotion down stairs.

When he got back down stairs, Jason found Alfred doing his best to help Damien watch the kids. They were serving snacks that hardly lasted five minutes and handing out towels _. All that laundry_ , Jason sighed. Worst babysitting job ever! Jason was starting to think that Dick hadn't really been that out of it when he called the kids a heard of goats. _Note to self, ask Bruce for a raise_. He joined back in the mayhem and made Alfred go back upstairs. The man was practically hyperventilating at the shape the house was in yet again.

It was a good thing Alfred left because a huge food fight erupted. The kids overturned tables to create barricades on either side of the room. From behind these, they launched the hotdogs, fruit, pretzels, and cupcakes Alfred had provided. Jason stood in the doorway fuming. He marched between the two sides and shouted at the top of his voice, "ENOUGH!"

Did the kids listen? Absolutely not. Damien launched a cupcake at Jason's face with pinpoint accuracy. The other kids followed suit and Jason was soon caught in the crossfire of the raging food war. Or more accurately, the common target. That was the last straw. When Jason went into his 'I'm going to kill you all" mode, Damien was surprised it hadn't happened sooner. He chased the kids all back into the living room and blocked the exits.

After Damien's classmates had all been shoved out the door, Jason collapsed. His gaze roamed around the house; it was a disaster on steroids. Damien had wisely gone up to sit with Dick, so Jason knew he couldn't kill the little bastard. At least, not until Dick was asleep again. Instead of starting on the housekeeping again, he headed upstairs to check on his brother and Alfred.

He walked into Dick's room. Alfred was sitting in a comfy arm chair by the bed, Damien was putting in another movie, and Dick was half asleep. He looked a little feverish, but not too bad all things considered. Jason walked over to him just as Damien was climbing onto the bed on the other side. He desperately wanted to strangle the little brat, but there were witnesses here.

Jason was exhausted, and still hadn't recovered from the hangover. But someone had to put the house in order again. He started the leave, when he felt a tug on his wrist. He looked down at Dick. "Jason, stay and watch a movie with us."

"I can't. There is a lot of work to be done and anyways, I hate cartoons." Dick pulled him closer to the bed and Jason found he was only half-heartedly resisting. So, he sat down and watched _Aladdin_ with them.

It was midnight when Bruce and Tim got back. They were a day earlier than expected because, true to form, Tim found the hacker faster than anyone expected. The house was a total wreck. "What did Jason do? Bring the cats back?" gasped Tim.

"Let's find out," Bruce suggested. He and Tim walked upstairs. The first thing they did was look in on Dick. When they entered the room, they saw: Alfred asleep in the chair, Dick was sleeping with his head on Jason's shoulder, Jason laid back and snoring, and Damien curled up with his head on Dick's legs. Tim got out his phone and took a picture of them. "This is going to all the Titans," he whispered with a grin. Bruce shut off the light and closed the door behind them.

He turned to Tim, "I don't think I'll make the mistake of leaving Jason in charge again. He's a lousy babysitter," said Bruce. Tim nodded as they stared at the mess downstairs. tomorrow there would be hell to pay, but for now, he'd let them sleep.

 **Author's Note:**

 ** **Up next,** ** _Bad Lip Reading_** **: Bruce has a date with a woman the boys don't trust, so they follow the couple. Unfortunately, they miss read the situation.****

 **Thanks for reading.**


	8. Story 8- Bad Lip Reading

**Story 8: Bad Lipreading**

"Just try to say it really fast; 'One smart fella, he felt smart. Two smart fellas, they felt smart. Three smart fellas, they all felt smart'," Dick prompted.

"What's the point Grayson?" Damien demanded.

"Just try it," Dick insisted.

"If I do, will you leave me alone?" Jason growled. When Dick nodded, he sighed heavily and proceeded to try the tongue-twister. "One smart fella, he felt smart. Two fart smelllas…" he stopped short. Dick pushed pause on the video recording he was making on his phone and doubled over laughing. Unamused, Jason glared at him hard as he grabbed a pillow from the couch and launched it at his childish older-brother.

"That's real mature Dick," said Tim sarcastically looking up from his calculous textbook.

"You try it Tim," Dick encouraged wiping out his phone camera again.

Tim lowered his eyelids and regarded Dick with a calculating and unimpressed demeanor. Never the less, he began his attempt, "one smart fella, he felt smart. Two smart fellas, they felt smart. Three smart fellas and they all smelt fart." His hands flew over his mouth when he realized what he had just said on video.

For the second time in a matter of minutes, Dick was in hysterics and this time, Jason was laughing as well. "That video is so going to the Titans! # Tim isn't always proper," laughed Dick. Tim's face went bright red. He threw the textbook away and launched himself at Dick.

"Richard Grayson, don't you dare!" he shouted. He didn't mind the prospect of looking ridiculous, but it was the principal of the thing. Dick couldn't just take embarrassing videos of him and send them off without consequences. Completely undignified now, Tim jumped onto Dick and they both fell in a heap on the Livingroom floor. Not wanting to be left out of a brawl, Damien jumped in on behalf of on one unparticular. Now it was Jason's turn to get out the camera and sit on the sidelines laughing his ass off.

When Bruce walked into the room in his best dinner jacket, he stopped short on his way to the door and just stared at them. Three of his boys were in a pile up on the floor. Dick had pinned Tim underneath him and Damien was astride Dick's back wielding a pillow. Tim's legs thrashed about as he tried to get out of his current predicament, however, he was out of luck. Bruce just shook his head in mild amusement. He wondered what had happened this time.

"What's with the bowtie Bruce?" asked Dick looking up at him.

"I have a date," Bruce answered straightening his lapel. He checked his wrist watch.

"Who's the lucky woman this time?" Dick asked simultaneously ignoring Tim's groaning request to get up.

"A smart beautiful blond maned Sasha Zurich."

"Sasha Zurich, as in the one from LexCorps? Lex Luther's Sasha Zurich?" demanded Tim. His voice squeaked due to the pressure on his chest. "Dick, would you get off me already?" Dick shifted his weight and let Tim wriggle out from under him before faceplanting on the carpet. Damien laughed.

"Yes, Tim. Miss Zurich works at LexCorps, but that doesn't make her a criminal," said Bruce stonily.

"But you've read her files," Tim persisted, "you know you shouldn't trust her."

"I do not approve of this female, father," Damien put it.

Jason raised his beer. "Here, here. Let's disapprove of Bruce's date."

"Never trust a sexy woman," advised Dick. "I read it in a comic book once."

Bruce smirked. "That never stopped you," he pointed out. Dick blushed and the other boys snickered. Dick opened his mouth to say something when the doorbell rang. Bruce walked to the front door. A beautiful black limo was parked outside. Too bad Alfred had decided to take a day off. Bruce turned to the boys who had followed him to the door, probably hoping to get a glimpse of his infamous date. "Behave yourselves boys," he said over his shoulder as he trotted down to the waiting car.

Dick reluctantly closed the door behind Bruce. "We should follow them," he decided. He was half hoping one of his brothers would be sensible, respect Bruce's privacy, and say "no". But he was wrong.

"Grayson might be right. He is occasionally," said Damien.

"Hey!" Dick looked offended.

Tim looked up from his ipad. "I hate to agree, but I just dug up enough dirt on this woman to make her the fresh meat for the press and scandal mongers. She had affairs few stars and all of them had to pay her big money to keep her mouth shut. She stole a few thousand from LexCorps but got away with it because Lex Luther had more to lose than she did. The list goes on. Bruce shouldn't be out there with her. What if he falls under her spell?"

"Let's go then," said Jason unusually cooperative. "Operation Ruin Bruce's date with a bitch is a go." He ignored Dick's request to watch his language and grabbed the keys to the Maserati. His brothers piled into the car after him; Dick riding shotgun and Tim and Damien arguing in the back seat. Grinning evilly, he opened the garage door. He slammed his foot on the accelerator and shot out of the driveway at breakneck speed. He suddenly realized that he had no clue where he was going. Fortunately, Tim had that covered. He was working away with his ipad in the seat behind Dick.

"I hacked the GPS in Bruce's limo. They're heading left on 4th Taylor," said Tim.

"Got it. Hold on to your pants, here we go," declared Jason. Using his knowledge of the streets he had gained during the night crusades, he zoomed down alley ways and back streets at a minimum on ten miles over the speed limit. All the while, Tim was shouting directions from the back seat. Dick cringed as Jason narrowly missed clipping a police squad car parked on the corner of Upper James and Wellington.

"Slow down Jay! You nearly hit that car," cried Dick.

"Shut-up Dick. Nobody likes a back-seat driver," Jason shot back. "If the police are watching, we might as well make it interesting."

"Next time, I'm driving," Dick pronounced.

"No you're not," cried Jason indignantly. "You drive like my grandma."

"I've never met the woman, but she sounds like a very impressive good driver," said Dick.

"Turn left, turn left!" shouted Tim from behind the older boys, cutting off Jason's next snarky comment on Dick's driving capabilities. Jason made a hairpin turn without touching the breaks. Damien let out a little squeal in spite of himself as the force of the turn threw him into Tim. Dick and Tim were both slammed against the doors without warning and their seatbelts went taught. Jason clung to the steering wheel for dear life, as he gunned it around the corner to catch up with Bruce's rapidly retreating limo. The car fishtailed as he tried to straighten out. While the others sat in stunned silence, Jason let out a sharp bark of laughter.

They saw Bruce arrive at a fancy restaurant called The Emerald Goblet a few minutes later. Jason pulled into a little ice cream parlor across the street to stake out the date at Tim's suggestion. Tim hacked the restaurant's register and found out which table Bruce had reserved. Then he and Dick walked in through the service entrance. Dick distracted the waitresses while Tim planted a bug under the table. This done, somehow before Bruce and Sasha were seated, Tim and Dick ran back to the ice cream parlor and sat down at a little booth with Jason and Damien.

"I hate to admit it Drake, but this stakeout was a good idea. Fortunately, I am an excellent lip reader," said Damien lifting the binoculars to his eyes. "Father is saying, 'when he was little, Dick sent a letter to Santa asking for a little brother. Santa wrote back, "ok, send me your mother". Well, one way or another, Dick got brothers.' Did that really happen, Dick?"

Dick choked on his milkshake. Jason sprayed his Pepsi in a fountain over Tim and Dick before roaring with laughter. Tim groaned and let his head fall hard on the table. People in the booth beside them turned their heads to stare at the boys with quizzical faces. "Damien!" cried Dick when he recovered, "no more lip-reading."

"Yeah, I got this covered," said Tim. He motioned to the microphone receiver in his ear. "I planted a bug at their table. I can hear everything they're saying."

"Cheater," mumbled Damien. They waited out the whole of the date at the ice cream parlor. Tim was glued to the transmitter and barely touched the mint-chocolate-chip ice cream Dick got for him. Jason went a block away to a bar and came back with three beers.

Dick got bored and walked back to The Emerald Goblet. He charmed his way into the kitchen and found out which desert was going to be served to Bruce and his date. While no one was looking, he dumped hot Chile pepper into the chocolate icing. A lot of Chile pepper. Then he frosted the cake with it. It looked beautiful when the waitress came for it and took it back to the table. Dick hightailed it out of the restaurant and back to his brothers. As he entered, Jason and Damien were laughing and Tim was staring at him suspiciously.

"Chile pepper in the cake. Really Dick?" asked Tim unimpressed.

"Yeah, not the most creative, but still effective," Dick shrugged, "classic."

Tim winced as he heard the commotion on the other end of the bug. Suddenly, he yanked the ear piece out and crushed it on the table. He looked up at his brothers. "Bruce found the bug. He'll trace everything back to us. Nice going with the cake Dick."

"Where are they going next?" demanded Damien.

"To get ice cream on the pier," Tim answered, "they probably need it after the hot cake."

"To the car, you bunch of date wreckers," declared Jason, "the night is young yet."

Jason raced to the car and jumped in the driver's seat. Dick tried to make Jason give up the keys to him. His brother was a bad enough driver without several beers in his system. Dick didn't really want to find out how Jason would drive under the influence. Unfortunately for them, Dick lost that battle. Jason shot out of the driveway after Bruce like a rocket.

They had to follow Bruce the old-fashioned way because he disabled the limo's GPS so Tim couldn't track him. Without Tim telling him where to go, Jason was up to his own devices to keep the limo in his sights. He continued his reckless driving policy. After Jason nearly knocked over a telephone pole, Dick screamed at him, "are you trying to get arrested?"

"Relax, there aren't any police around," said Jason condescendingly as if he were talking to a nervous child. His eyes popped wide open when he saw flashing red and blue lights in the rear-view mirror accompanied by a wailing siren. "Ah shit." He pulled over.

"Language!" said Tim from the back seat as he buried his head in sweatshirt. "I am not here. I am not a part of this," he mumbled the officer approached the car, "just melt into the seat."

"Nice going Todd! Now father and that female are going to the pier and who knows where after that while we're stuck here with the police," Damien accused.

"Keep it shut demon brat," snapped Jason.

"Police, that's it!" cried Dick triumphantly, "Tim, do you still have the Interpol badge Jason and I stole (while we were drunk) from that officer at the bar in Moscow?"

"Why would you bring that up?" demanded Jason.

"Yeah, it's in the disguise case in the trunk. I grabbed it when we left. Why do you…" Tim couldn't finish his question because Dick had jumped out of the car leaving Jason to deal with the police by himself.

When the officer went back to his car for a breathalyzer test, Dick poked his head through the passenger door window. "I've got a plan," he said.

"Oh, this'll be good," mutter Jason sarcastically. "Are you going to plant a whoopee cushion on a park bench for Sasha to sit on?"

Dick ignored him. "Tim, send me everything you have on Sasha Zurich and make up some document that says she came from Russia where she robbed her dates at gun point. Put it in a place where the police can find it."

"Why not just tell the police the truth?" asked Tim.

"Because it will be way more fun to watch her get taken away screaming 'this is absurd' than a nice quiet arrest. The date will be completely wrecked," answered Dick. When the police officer came back, and he added, "do your best to take care of our drunk driver. Damien, you come with me."

Dick ran off with Damien and the disguise kit. The police officer wasn't happy that the two boys had just vacated the scene without express permission. However, he only had proof that Jason was in trouble. He could not hold either Dick or Damien on any legal grounds. With that out of the way, Dick ducked into a bathroom at a gas station and changed his clothes. When he reappeared, he was wearing a false mustache, a dirty blond wig, glasses, a trench coat, and a holster with an empty gun. He figured, that if they didn't want Bruce on a date with this "objectable" lady, the best way to get her out of the picture was to have her arrested.

He and Damien ran down to the GCPD and marched in. Dick flashed the stolen badge to the security officers. Fortunately, he spoke Russian perfectly. His accent and slightly broken English were flawless as he asked to speak with the commissioner on an urgent matter. "Come in Detective Bortsov," said Commissioner Gordon referring to Dick's alias.

"I am looking for this woman," said Dick in his Russian accent, "she was a detective in Russian until she came to United States. She is wanted by Russian police in five cities." He held up the picture of Sasha Zurich.

Just on que, Damien walked into the precinct to tell the commissioner that his stupid brother Todd was in trouble with the law again, when he looked at the picture Dick or Detective Bortsov was holding. "Hey, that's the woman my father, Bruce Wayne, is on a date with tonight," he said. The kid was a decent actor; he actually sounded surprised.

"Bruce Wayne is on date with this pig-woman!" cried Dick still in character, "she will steal his money at gun point after date like she did in Russia. She is hairy sled-dog who drink too much vodka."

The police started searching for everything they could on Sasha Zurich. They found Tim's planted stories when they thought they were hacking the Russian police files. They had actually hacked a joke website that Dick and Tim had made to prank the Justice League two years ago. The joke was on the police this time; the Russians aren't that dumb. They have better security than that. The stories they found were pretty outrageous.

"Why didn't we know about this before?" asked Commissioner Gordon.

"You were too busy playing with bats and chasing jokers and penguins," Dick responded as Detective Bortsov. He had to keep himself from laughing.

"It's more serious than it sounds," Gordon defended himself. To chief O'Hara he added, "send a squad car to the pier and watch Miss Zurich. If she makes a move to hurt Mr. Wayne, take her in."

"Good. I go with you," said Dick.

"And I will to," declared Damien.

"The difference between that woman and hyena is: one is merciless, ugly wild animal and the other is hyena. She can scare witches with that face," said Dick. He was kind of on a role. He knew lots pf good insults and had been waiting for the right time to use them.

"I think she's kid of hot," said a sergeant as he scanned the files.

"No time for more insults to donkey lady. We go now."

They left the GCPD in a single patrol car and parked discreetly at the pier. They watched Sasha and Bruce talking and enjoying their ice cream. Everything was going fine, until Bruce said something and Sasha made a move for her purse behind her back. She was planning to surprise Bruce with a pass to visit LexCorps but the police didn't know that. They thought she was going to pull out a gun and rob Bruce. They sprang from their cover shouting, "don't move Miss Zurich! Put your hands over your head and drop the purse."

Looking completely surprised and flustered, Sasha complied. She was face down on the asphalt in seconds. The police were searching her purse with the vain expectation of finding a gun. For their part, Dick and Damien were laughing until their sides hurt. Beside them, a black man in a tattered denim jacket laughed, "a nice rich white lady face down on the ground. Now there's something you don't see every day."

The police took Sasha Zurich back to the police department. Jason and Tim were already there because Jason was in deep trouble for his earlier driving display. Bruce and his driver showed up a few minutes later. Bruce glared at his sons. Sometimes he thought they were more trouble than they were worth. Dick had disposed of his costume before he and Damien turned up after Bruce.

The whole situation was rather complicated. The police were trying to find the source of the false stories about Sasha and Detective Bortsov but couldn't find either. They did however, find everything that Tim had found before Bruce's date. They were able to verify the information and Sasha was taken into custody pending trial. That left Bruce in the police station at two o'clock in the morning with his date arrested for assorted crimes and his son arrested for drunk driving. He bailed Jason out but he was sorely tempted not to.

In the end, Batman saved the day. He kept the boys out of trouble and cleared all the mischief off the computers that they had done. The incident never made the papers which was a miracle. Clark Kent had something to do with that. Although Bruce was furious in the immediate aftermath, he calmed down within a few days. He even laughed about it when he was alone in his study. _Boys_. He shook his head.

 **Author's Challenge:**

 **Try saying Dick's tongue-twister quickly without reading it. My grandfather is the only person I know who can do it quickly and consistently without screwing up. Can you?** **?**

 **Up Next,** ** _I Cannot Tell a Lie_** **: Tired of Dick being the "Golden Boy", Jason slips Dick a lie pill which makes him incapable of telling the truth even when he tries. Not the most practical plan when you have to go fight crime as a team.**


	9. Story 9: I cannot Tell a Lie pt1

**Story 9: I Cannot Tell a Lie**

"I gave the code to Dick because _I trust_ him," said Bruce _._

 _"_ Since when?" Jason demanded. "Since he came back from Bludhaven and brought the family back together?"

"Since he was Robin. I've always trusted Dick to do the right thing. He did some stupid things, like becoming a police officer, but I never doubted that he did it for good reasons. I often don't agree with him, but I never doubt his heart. I gave him the self-destruct code to the cave, because he's the only who will know when to use it."

"And you don't trust the rest of us? What about Tim, at least?"

"I'm Batman and I make the decisions. NO questions," Bruce snapped. Jason stormed out unable to trust himself to continue the argument without trying to kill Bruce. Again.

Jason stopped storming around the cave long enough to look over some objects Batman was analyzing. Another Joker card with some blood on it, a tattered scarf, an AR15 assault rifle, and a bottle of tablets. He examined the tablets further and discovered that they were lie pills. The pills made people incapable of telling the truth. A gun running gang used them in case they were caught by the authorities. It was an alternative to a suicide capsule. A horrible idea popped into Jason's head; what it the "Golden Boy" wasn't so perfect anymore? He slipped two tablets into his pockets and ran up the stairs to find Dick.

Dick and Tim were seated at the kitchen table with plates of waffles and glasses of orange juice. Dick was showing Tim how to use his fork as a catapult to launch blueberries at unsuspecting butlers. _Why do people think Dick is so perfect?_ Jason wondered.

"Unsuspecting brother at 12 O'clock!" shouted Dick. Tim set up his fork and catapulted a whip cream covered blueberry at Jason's face. "Great aim Tim! That's what I'm talking about!" Dick gave Tim a high-five. They laughed as Jason wiped the mess from his face.

 _Oh, I am going to enjoy this,_ thought Jason fingering the lie pills in his pocket. "You two had better watch your backs for flying tomatoes. I have killer aim too you know," he said walking over to the table.

"Yeah, I never should have taught you how to fire spitballs from a straw," said Dick rubbing the back of his neck in memory. "The first Wayne Foundation diner we got stuck going to together, and you just had to practice on Mr. Paterson."

"In all honestly, I was aiming for you," said Jason with a laugh. "Bruce wasn't very impressed."

"I thought you had 'killer aim'?" teased Tim.

"Well I did. Dick was just a lousy coach," said Jason to shift the attention from himself. He maneuvered himself close to Dick's glass of orange juice. When Tim and Dick started a food fight across the table for no reason what so ever, Jason casually dropped the lie pills in the juice. He could hardly wait for them to take effect. Not to be too conspicuous, Jason walked over to the counter and poured himself a cup of hot coffee. He stole a doughnut off a little china plate and had a lovely breakfast as he watched Dick turn into a compulsive liar.

Fifteen minutes later, Bruce walked into the kitchen and slipped on the blueberries rolling around on the floor. "Who left blueberries on the floor?" he demanded.

"Jason," answered Dick without thinking.

 _Oh crap. That backfired on me_ , thought Jason. _The one time I want him to tell the truth._ "No I didn't," he shouted, "Dick was teaching Tim how to catapult blueberries off a fork." _Like Bruce would believe me over Dick even when I am telling the truth_. Fortunately, Tim decided to be honest.

"Jason's telling the truth. Dick and I will clean it up," Tim confessed.

"No, we won't," Dick lied. He covered his mouth when he realized his mistake.

Bruce was glaring at him. "Yes, you will," he growled.

Dick decided not to say anything in case he lied again. He had no clue why he had lied in the first place. It wasn't even like he was consciously making an effort to put blame on other people. He watched Bruce walk over to the counter and pour himself a cup of coffee. Bruce reached for the plate where his doughnut had been only to find it wasn't there. "Where is my doughnut?" he asked.

"A seagull flew in here as grabbed it. The crumbs on the floor are from the struggle; we tried to save it for you," said Dick.

"A seagull? Really Dick? You are not a very good liar," said Jason amused.

"Dick!" cried Bruce, "how could you take my doughnut?"

Dick wanted to say _, I didn't_ ; but the lie pill wouldn't let him. Instead he lied, "I'm sorry that seagull was too fast for me."

"Enough with the seagull!" cried Bruce, "no-one is buying that story. Now go get me another doughnut and be quick about it. I have to leave for work in twenty minutes."

Dick rose from his seat and ran to the car. He was so confused. Why did he lie? Who really stole the doughnut? Why didn't Tim defend him? Tim must have known he didn't steal it because they had been sitting together all morning. What in the world was going on with him? He had so many questions as he pulled into the parking lot at Gotham' Finest Bakery.

"How can I help you today?" asked a pretty woman behind the counter.

"You can't," Dick lied. _Oh shoot, I did it again_ , he thought.

"Sure I can," she insisted, "what do you want?"

"A chocolate croissant," he answered. _Bruce is going to kill me if I don't bring back a doughnut._

"Do you want a coffee to go with that?"

"Yes." _No, I really don't_.

"Anything else sir?"

"How about a cheese Danish?" _Ask for a freek'in doughnut, you idiot._

"Will that be all?"

"No." _Yes, it really will. I can't stop lying, so I don't know how to get the doughnut_. "I'd like a lemon muffin." _I hate lemon muffins, why would I say that_? This went on for much longer than he wanted. Dick could not tell the truth no matter how hard he tried. It was infuriating. In the end, he bought one of everything in the store except one measly little doughnut. A couple of friendly workers had to help him carry everything back to his car. When he got back to the manor, Bruce's eyebrows shot up. Jason was laughing hysterically and Tim's jaw descended halfway to the floor before he picked it back up again.

"What is all this, Dick?" Bruce demanded.

"Racoon bait," Dick answered _. Damnit, I did it again._

"Enough goofing around Dick. Where is my doughnut?"

"Ace stole it from Bat-cat who stole it from the seagull. My guess is that it's in a place you'll never want to find it again. The bakery was out of more doughnuts so I got one of everything," Dick lied.

Bruce growled as he took the espresso and cheese Danish from the pile of food Dick had put on the table. "When I get back from work, you had better have dropped whatever game you're playing or I'll have you sedated," Bruce threatened. Dick swallowed. Jason laughed.

When Bruce was safely out of the room, Dick breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm going upstairs to powder my nose," he told Tim and Jason. _Powder my nose? Really Grayson?_

Jason laughed. "You do that bro. You should put on a little lipstick and mascara to seal the look though." Jason was enjoying every minute of this. Dick walked upstairs for a nice hot shower to clear his head. He had no idea what was going on with him. As he stared at himself in the foggy mirror he tried to think. Maybe the best thing to do was to absorb himself in his work. That's what Tim would do and it seemed to work for him.

Although Officer Grayson had the day off, Dick put on his uniform and headed to Bludhaven. He parked his motorcycle and walked into the precinct. When he entered the building, he saw Officer Amy Rorschach standing with her hands on her hips. She and the police chief were exchanging heated words. Ignoring them for the moments, Dick noticed a little girl with blond curly pigtails. She was sitting on a hard chair and staring up at the grown-ups. The poor kid looked terrified. Little unshed tears sparkled in the corners of her eyes like diamonds. Dick felt his heart skip a beat.

Without preamble or addressing either of the officers, Dick walked over to her and knelt to her level. "Hi," he said sweetly, "what's your name kid?"

"H-Hannah, sir," she stuttered.

"Hi Hannah. Don't call me sir. I'm Fred," said Dick. _Damn, not the best time to tell another like Dick_ , he told himself. When he looked up, he noticed that he had attracted the attention of his superiors.

Amy laughed shortly and without humor. "Officer Grayson is a jokester. His name isn't Fred its Richard. I'm sure he won't mind of you call him Dick," she told the girl. To Dick she added, "you have the day off rookie, what are you doing here?"

"Butterfly hunting," Dick answered and for once that day didn't care that it was a lie because Hannah laughed.

"You can't catch butterflies here Mr. Richard-Dick-Fred sir," she giggled. She wiped a little tear from her eye with the back of her sleeve.

"Clearly, you're new around here," laughed Dick. He looked back at Amy. "Why is Hannah here?"

"Her father is a member of a gang of gun runners. He gave us information on a major arms deal that will happen tomorrow on the border of Bludhaven and Gotham's industrial district. He's in protective police custody right now after the gang made an attempt on his life. We're keeping Hannah here until we can find a place for her to stay temporarily," Amy explained.

"Is her father ok?" asked Dick concerned.

"He's fine," she answered shortly, "our bigger problem is what to do with Hannah. The BCPD is no place for a child."

Dick knew what to do. He looked down at Hannah and knew he should take her back to Wayne manor with him. This was his way of absorbing himself in his work. Unlike Bruce and Tim, he realized that sometimes doing your job meant taking time off from the computers and beating bad guys to just take care of people. His only problem was getting them to help him when everything he said was a lie (except when he asked questions because you can't lie a question).

"Can I take her back to Wayne Manor with me?" he asked.

"Fine by me Rookie," said Amy, "just get her out of my hair."

"I trust you kid. I'll have the paper work drawn up and you two can hunt butterflies together," teased the chief.

"Actually, I plan to take her skydiving," lied Dick before he could stop himself.

"I hope you're joking," said Amy unamused. Dick flashed her his signature grin hoping to assuage her fears. Amy rolled her eyes and walked off to get Hannah's things.

"Do you want to come back to my place?" asked Dick kneeling in front of Hannah.

She looked up at Dick hopefully. "Yes," Hannah said in a small voice. Dick was the first person who was nice to her in the police department since the receptionist who gave her a cup of water and a chocolate bar. He held out his hand with a warm smile and she took it. She jumped off the chair and they walked over to Amy who had drawn up the necessary paper work to give Dick custody of Hannah until the crisis with her father was over.

Having a conversation with Hannah on the drive home was insanely hard for Dick because he kept lying. Every time she asked him a question, he answered something outrageous and not at all true. When she asked if they could stop of ice cream on the way, he said "no" and then proceeded to buy her ice cream. For her part, Hannah had decided to find him funny. She had taken to calling him Agent Fred since he introduced himself incorrectly. Now that she was out of the BCPD, Hannah was a funny talkative girl with a bright imagination.

Officer Grayson and Hannah pulled into the driveway at Wayne Manor at around five O'clock in time for dinner. Bruce's car was already there. Apparently, he had taken a short day at the office. Dick led Hannah up to the house and into the living room. Inside, Tim was doing his homework and Damien was ignoring his homework in favor of shouting death threats at Jason. Again. For his part, Jason was wearing head phones and drowning out his brother. Bruce was sitting on the couch with his ipad.

Alfred walked into the room to inform them that dinner would be ready in an hour. He stopped short. "Who is this young lady Master Dick?" he asked indicating Hannah.

"My daughter Hannah," Dick lied. The room went silent and all eyes in the room turned to them. _Oh, Dick! What did you just say._

 **Author's note: Part 2 coming soon. Thanks for reading. Hope you laughed.**


	10. Story 10: I cannot Tell a Lie pt2

**Story 9 Pt. 2: I Cannot Tell a Lie**

"WHAT!" shouted Bruce.

Dick just stood there in the middle of the room too stunned by his lie to even contemplate moving. His eyes darted around the room for help. Unfortunately, everyone else looked just as shocked as himself. Tim's jaw looked like he had dislocated is and his eyes were wide open. Jason didn't look as shocked at Tim, in fact he wore a little smirk, but he too had been stunned to a stand-still. Damien looked utterly confused. But it was the expression of shocked horror and betrayal on Bruce's face that made Dick's blood freeze in place. He wondered for half an instant if Bruce was going to keel over with a heart attack.

In desperation, he looked to Hannah. She was his last hope to restore this situation. She looked up at him in surprise. But that look soon cleared from her eyes and she winked at him, a hint of mischief replacing the surprise in her expression. She thought this lie was just another one of his jokes or pranks that he had told her in the car. As realization dawned on him, Dick cringed.

Hannah looked at Bruce, who she had picked out to be Dick's father, and said, "I'm Hannah. Officer Grayson is my daddy but I like to call him Fred. I don't know why, but I think it suits him don't you?" She was just playing along with Dick's game, right? Ah, nope.

"Yes," lied Dick. He really should have learned by now not to open his mouth.

"Daddy? Daughter? Fred? What? How?" sputtered Tim.

"Tim, don't tell me I need to give you 'the talk'," said Jason with a slightly wicked grin, "at your age you should know what makes babies."

"I'm not a baby," Hannah glared at him. She planted her hands on her hips.

"She's 'Fred's' alright," said Jason. Dick glared at him.

Bruce found his voice. "Dick! What did you do?" he shouted. "It's bad enough that you have a daughter but how could you hide her from us for several years? Who is the mother? I can't believe I trusted you!"

Poor Dick couldn't say anything. He just stood there frozen even as his heart was beating a mile a minute.

Hannah decided to answer for him. "My mommy's name is Harley. I haven't seen her since I was two." This was the truth. Her mother had been a part of a biker gang since she was born and was named after a Harley Davison. Wanting to get back on the road again, she left Hannah with her father and rode off into the sunset. Unfortunately, everyone in the room knew a woman named Harley. A certain infamous villain.

"You and Harley Quin?" demanded Jason. "God, I didn't see that coming. I had my money on a certain hot-alien friend of yours." Ok, Jason knew it was a lie. How could he not after he gave Dick the lie pills? But there was no way on earth that he was helping Dickyboy out of this mess. It was even better than he had hoped for. He was, in all honesty, a little curious as to who Hannah really was. At first, he had forgotten himself and believed for half an instant that Dick really did have a little girl.

Dick groaned. This just kept getting worse. First the doughnuts. Then he was a father. Now he was a father who had a daughter with the woman they had all tangled with and tried to keep behind bars. The shock level in the room grew if that was possible. Bruce was fuming in his chair and his hands were clenched hard into fists. His eyes were dark and steely. Everything about him was cold and angry.

"That is quite enough for now, sirs," said Alfred regaining his composure and striding into the room to defuse the situation. Good old Alfred. "Master Dick, you have neglected to properly introduce us. This is no way to welcome family."

Dick took a deep breath. Indicating Bruce, he said, "Hannah, this is Sleepy." He pointed to Jason, Tim, and Damien. "This is Bashful, Dopy, and Grumpy. The old man is Doc; he's also grumpy so don't mess with him. The cat is Sneezy and the dog is Happy."

"Master Dick!" exclaimed Alfred, "must I do everything around here?" He put his hands on Hannah's shoulders and pointed around the room. "Master Bruce, Master Jason, Master Tim, Master Damien, and I'm Alfred Pennyworth the Butler. The cat's name is Bat-cat, and the dog is called Ace."

"I liked Drake better as Dopy," said Damien. Tim tried to fry him with a look.

Alfred rolled his eyes, "come along Master Hannah. There is a room upstairs that you can stay in across the hall from Master Dick."

Grinning, Hannah allowed Alfred to lead her up the stairs, blond pigtails bounced behind her. For her part, Hannah was quite pleased with herself for having helped Dick full a really good prank on his family. She was still too young to understand and appreciate the nature of this 'prank'. In her mind, this was just a game of house; like the game she and her friends played with their baby-dolls. She ran into the room behind Alfred and jumped onto the bed. She was elated that there weren't any night rails on it like her bed at home. It made her feel grown up.

Back downstairs, Bruce walked past Dick on his way out of the living room to get ready for dinner. "We'll talk about this later. Why didn't you tell me?" Dick didn't answer; he just stood there helplessly unable to say anything to get himself out of this mess. Bruce shook his head in disappointment.

Tim followed Bruce out of the room. As he walked by, he looked up at Dick. "You probably could have handled that better, but here's a belated congratulation. She's a cute kid."

"Grayson, you dog," said Damien walking past, "I never thought you would do something like this." _To me_ , he added silently.

"Nice going Dick. Bad pun intended," said Jason with a slightly wicked grin. He winked at Dick and punched him playfully in the shoulder. Jason was too happy. He was enjoying this way too much for Dick's liking.

In a matter of minutes, Dick was standing alone in the middle of the living room. He was still completely baffled and had no idea how he was going to get out of this mess. It wasn't his fault. Sure, he made a lot of bad jokes but this wasn't even funny. Dejectedly, Dick walked upstairs to change out of his uniform. He practically tore off his shirt and threw his cap angrily at the ground. It took everything in him not to break down out of frustration.

The family sat down to dinner right on schedule thanks to Alfred. Bruce took his usual place at the head of the table and scanned the faces of his family. To everyone's surprise, he had a pleasant smile plastered on his face. Dick guessed that Bruce had decided to be civil towards him and Hannah, the girl he thought was his sort-of-granddaughter. In his eyes was a hint of forgiveness. At least diner wouldn't be unbearable.

Alfred had made sure that Hannah could sit next to Dick and even found Bruce's old booster seat up in the attic. The clever butler had altered the seat, which was meant to be used in the car, to fit onto one of the dining room chairs. Damien had sat down on the other side of Dick with a scowl. He had been sticking to Dick and Hannah since they came down stairs. He never smiled and hardly talked to them but he was always right there to watch Hannah like a hawk. Dick assumed Damien was making mental notes on her like an assassin might. It was not a comforting thought for Dick.

For his part, Damien hated Hannah. He wanted to caller her "the little demon spawn" because he thought she was also the daughter of Harley Quin. _Oh, the irony._ Honestly, he was a little jealous of Hannah and maybe even felt a little threatened by her. Dick had done more for him than Bruce had at first. When Dick took over as Batman for a short time, they developed a unique partnership. One Damien hated to admit was there, but also one he was terribly afraid of losing. As Dick's supposed daughter, he feared that Hannah would grow-up and become Dick's new partner. And where would that leave Damien? He didn't like the feeling of insecurity the thought left him. Not that he would ever admit it of course. If anyone called him out on it, he would put on his costume, draw his sword, and challenge them to a duel.

"So, Hannah," said Bruce conversationally, digging into his lasagna, "how old are you?"

"I'm six," she answered holding up her fingers.

 _Dick was just a kid himself when you were born._ "Have you been to the police department where your dad works?"

Hannah was confused for half an instant until she remembered that she had hold them all Dick was her dad. "Yeah, I was there today," she told Bruce. "But I don't like all the fighting they have to do. People shouldn't use guns." Bruce ginned at that. Suddenly, he really liked Hannah. She continued, "I'm more of a fluffy clouds and hugs type of girl. I even have a stuffy unicorn." She produced a soft pink and purple unicorn plushie from under the table. "See? This is Horny. She's my stuffed unicorn."

At this Bruce's eyes went wide and he covered his laughter in his napkin. Jason burst into laughter and didn't even try to hide it; the looks on Dick, Alfred, and Tim's faces were as beautiful as Hannah's unicorn.

"I am not amused," said Damien dryly.

Hannah couldn't understand what all the commotion was about. She guessed she had said something funny but had no clue what it was. Instead of inquiring into the matter, she decided to ask Bruce, "what are we going to do tonight? Are we all going to have fun?"

Well, Bruce was going on patrol but of course he couldn't tell her that. So, he said, "well, I can't think of something fun to do off the top of my head."

"Then use the bottom of your head," said Hannah reasonably.

The boys started laughing again and Bruce just said, "I'll try that." He hid another grin in his napkin.

"Kids these days," muttered Tim.

"She's just like Dick," said Jason, "a hugger with endless jokes. Sheesh."

Hannah ignored the boy's comments and looked up at Alfred. "Mr. Alfred sir, can we have ice-cream for desert? You know, life's too short not to have lots of sugar."

"I'm sure I can arrange for that," said Alfred.

This seemed to be the last straw for Dick. It was so hard not to talk, but by now he had more or less learned to keep his lying mouth shut. He let his head fall hard on the table in aggravation and desperation. God, he wanted to be able to communicate what was on his mind.

"Are you ok, daddy-Fred?" asked Jason jokingly. Dick didn't move.

"Maybe he just has a lasagna hang-over," Hannah suggested putting a little hand on Dick's back.

"I think he's just doing us all a favor and choking," Jason speculated.

Dick got up from the table without asking to be excused or even finishing his diner. He felt Bruce's eyes following him and Alfred's disapproving stare as the old man cleaned up the plate. Dick raced into the cave and started searching psychiatric journals for anything that might be able to, at the very least, explain what he was going through. Nothing. There was plenty on compulsive liars but non of it quite fit his problem.

Aggravated, he slammed his fist down on the analysis table. The vibration knocked a bottle of pills off the table and onto the floor. Dick picked up the bottle absent mindedly and read the label, "Maxwell's Lie Pills; never tell the truth for 24 hours. Great for withholding information from the cops." Dick growled. He checked a sample of his blood to confirm his suspicion. Sure enough, someone had slipped him a lie pill. Thinking back over the day, he realized that it had to have been either Tim or Jason at breakfast. Just based on their characters, Dick was betting that it had been Jason.

 _Jason Todd,_ Thought Dick, _why that dirty skunk! That filthy weasel-face! That-that-that, duck fart! Do ducks even fart? That's a crass thought, I'm going to stop now._ Dick was going to race back upstairs and tackle Jason; maybe strangle him or hang him on a coat peg by his shorts. He didn't really know. But just before he could run out of the cave, the batcomputer's alert system flashed a warning. A major arms deal was going down that very minute on the border of Gotham and Bludhaven. It was the same deal Hannah's real dad had risked his life to report to the police.

Dick sighed. Killing Jason would just have to wait. Right now, Nightwing had a job to do. He thought about going to tell the others what was going on, but knew he would just tell them another stupid lie. They probably wouldn't believe him. He imagined a case of "the hero who called arms deal" going around the superhero community. _Fine, I'll do this myself_. He put on his Nightwing costume, jumped on his motorcycle, and sped off into the night. _At least I have some time to plot_. _I'll have Jason's snoot in a sling yet_.

* * *

 **Author's note: Part 3 coming soon.**

 **Sorry about the delay. Thanks for reading. Hope you laughed.**

 **Fun fact: All of Hannah's quotes at dinner are modified versions of things real kids have said. When you babysit as much as I do, you get hear a lot of funny quotes. Personally, my favorite was when my six-year-old sister asked me if I had a hangover from all the juice I was drinking. I wonder what I did to make her ask that. It's not like she's ever seen a drunk before because I was 14 and my parents abstain from all alcohol. It must have been TV. Note to self: never leave kids alone with the TV on.**

 **Next up,** ** _Alfred Vs. Cupid_** **: Dick gets it into his head that Alfred needs a woman, contrary to the butler's beliefs. He proceeds to play Cupid and set Alfred up with a date.**


	11. story 11: I Cannot Tell a Lie pt3

**Story 9 Part 3** ** _: I Cannot Tell a Lie_**

Dick sped along the streets of Gotham towards the border with Bludhaven on his way to stop a major arms deal. He couldn't believe everything that had happened since breakfast. And unless his deductions were wrong, and they rarely were, he had Jason to blame for all of it. As he shot through a tunnel, Dick thought about all the things he could do to Jason.

Maybe he could put Vaseline on Jason's bedroom doorknob so he couldn't leave his room in the morning. He could move Jason's furniture into the basement and leave an IOU in its place. He could rip out the last two pages of _Huckleberry Finn_ that Jason was reading and send him on a scavenger hunt to find them. He could swap Jason's hair conditioner with cream cheese or poke holes in his tube of toothpaste or paint Jason's toenails while he slept. But these were all petty pranks, Dick needed something really good.

With those thoughts in his head, Dick pulled around the back of Gotham's Industrial district and parked his motorcycle. He jumped off and shot his grappling gun at the top of a nearby building. From here on out, he would travel by rooftop.

Back at Wayne Manor, Tim was teaching Hannah to play chess. She had beat him once because he hadn't believed she could. Now, however, he was paying attention. Damien was sitting on the couch with his Ipod and shouting snide remarks at Hannah every now and then. He didn't like her at all.

Bruce walked into the room. "Have any of you seen Dick anywhere? We need to talk."

"You're darn right you do," said Jason raising his beer.

"Well, have you seen him?" Bruce repeated.

"Nope. Not since he left dinner. He may be down in the CAVE," Jason spelled.

"What cave?" asked Hannah looking up from the game of chess. Bruce, Tim, and Damien glared at Jason. But he only shrugged, _how was I supposed to know she could read_?

"The CAVE is code for the bathroom. He might be taking a bubble bath or some such nonsense," said Jason to cover for his mistake.

Bruce just rolled his eyes and left the room. _Bubble bath indeed. Not even Dick would want to do that._ Bruce walked down the huge flight of stone steps into the Batcave. "Dick?" he called, "I need to talk to you." No answer. Well, not unless you count the sound of disturbed bats as an answer. Frustrated by his inability to locate his oldest son, Bruce turned on the Batcomputer's triangulation system to locate Dick's tracking beacon. Seconds later, Dick's signal appeared on the screen. What in the world was Dick doing?

Bruce activated the speaker in the communications device attached to Dick's gauntlet. "Dick, where are you? What in the world are you doing?"

"Hi Bruce," whispered Dick. He was currently hiding on a rooftop waiting for the arms dealers to show. "I'm at Tiffany's Beauty Salon getting my hair dyed blond. Time for a change, right?" _Me, a blond, seriously? When is this blasted lie pill going to wear off_?

"No, it's not time for a change! Do not go blond!" cried Bruce. "You just left us with your daughter to watch to get your hair done. We have patrol tonight! Get back here right now. Tonight, I need everyone. There is a major weapons deal…" Bruce just registered that Dick's beacon was coming from the boarder of Gotham and Bludhaven where the arms deal was going down tonight.

"I'd leave right now except that they're not finished with my hair. If I run off now, I'll look like a blond skunk."

"Blond skunk?" repeated Jason walking down into the cave to join Bruce. "I feel like that needs some context."

"Dick told me he's at Tiffany's getting his hair done, but his tracker puts him in Gotham's industrial district where a weapons deal is going down tonight. What is going on with him?"

Suddenly, they heard the sound of a truck convoy pulling up over Dick's com and several feet and voices. Jason blanched. "Bruce, there is something I have to tell you." As much as it pained him, Jason knew he had to come clean. Dick was in serious danger. "I slipped Dick a couple of the lie pills you were analyzing. Just as a joke. Bruce, we have to go after him. The beacon's right. Dick must be trying to stop the arms deal by himself."

"Dick, do not engage. I repeat, do not engage!" Bruce warned his oldest son over the communicator.

"Will do Batman," said Dick.

"He's lying," said Jason.

"I know he's lying." Bruce glared at Jason. He was fuming. His fists were tight by his sides. He wanted to shout at Jason. _Stupid. Stupid. Stupid_. However, he saw genuine concern on his son's face. Concern and regret that Bruce had only ever seen once before on Jason's face. The kid was repentant enough. "Get Tim and Damien," Bruce ordered, "Now! Tell Alfred he's been promoted to babysitter again. And you get to explain to him later why he doesn't get the evening off he was promised."

Jason nodded and fairly flew up the stairs to get his brothers. _Don't die Dick. I'd like to reserve the pleasure of killing you myself for being so reckless_.

Ten minutes later, the Bat-clan was on rout for the Border of Gotham and Bludhaven. The Batmobile raced through the streets at top speed. Even Jason, who had a reputation for reckless driving cringed at Bruce's death-wish driving tactics. He braced his hands on the dashboard as Bruce drove through a roadblock. Behind him, Jason thought he caught Red Robin clasp his hands in silent prayer and Robin shut is eyes tight as they soared over a mammoth pothole in the road.

Bruce pulled the Batmobile off the road in Gotham's industrial district and popped the canopy. Switching into full costumed crimefighter mode now, he contacted Dick again. This time, in his Batman persona. "Nightwing, do you have eyes on the guns yet?" he demanded.

"No guns. They're dealing in illegal imported rubber ducks," Nightwing reported over the intercom.

Bruce groaned. "Red Hood, how long till that lie pill wears off?" he snapped.

"Soon hopefully. I can't take much more of this," groaned Jason.

"You do know Grayson does not require help to be ridiculous, right Todd," Damien put in.

"No names in the field, guys," Red Robin reminded them. He climbed shakily out of the back seat. "I'm swinging home. It's probably safer."

When Batman, Red Hood, Red Robin, and Robin arrived at the scene of the arms deal, they realized the cavalry had already arrived. The Gotham City and Bludhaven police departments had banded together to bring the gun dealers to justice. Although there were several crates of assault riffles, dealers and buyers, the criminals didn't have a chance. The mission was wrapped up within minutes and the Batfamily was on their way home before dawn.

By the next morning, the lie pill had worn off and Dick was back to normal. Once he was, everyone peppered him with questions. "So, who is Hannah? You lied about her being your daughter," said Tim.

"Hannah's father told the police about the weapons deal last night. He's in protective custody in a hospital after other members of the gang tried to murder him," Dick explained.

Tim turned to Hannah. "Why did you tell us Dick was your dad?"

"Because I thought it was a joke he wanted to play on you. And…and…I kind of wished he was my dad. He's a good person. My dad isn't," she answered looking down at the carpet.

Dick knelt down to Hannah's level and lifted her chin to meet his eyes. "I think your dad is one of the good guys after all. Because of him, the police were there to stop a major gun deal. He saved a lot of lives last night. Mine included."

"So now that this is over, I'll be going home won't I?"

"Yes," said Dick. Hannah's face fell. "But you can always come and see me at the police department and we can go out for ice cream he promised."

Hannah threw her arms around Dick. "I'll come visit. Every day if I can. Maybe my dad will join the police force and do good like you."

Dick smiled at her. "I think that would be wonderful."

Within the hour, Hannah had packed her bag and was ready for Alfred to drive her back to Bludhaven. She said goodbye to Bruce, Damien, and Jason. She hugged Tim and he promised to give her a rematch in chess someday. Lastly, Hannah ran to Dick and gave him as tight a hug as her little arms would. She thanked him for everything and made him promise that they would see each other again soon. Then she walked to the car with Alfred with a little tear in her eye but bravery on her face. Her father needed her now. She had her own mission.

When Hannah and Alfred were safely out of the driveway, Damien turned to Dick. "I'm glad she's not your daughter Grayson. She isn't worthy of the name."

"Who's name?" asked Dick.

"Yours. Grayson. Don't get any ideas, but you're not all bad. Even for a poor little orphan," said Damien as he turned to head back into the house.

Bruce put a hand on Dick's shoulder. "For what it's worth Dick, I'd be proud if you had a daughter like Hannah." He tuned and followed Damien and Tim back inside.

When they were alone, Dick asked, "Jason, why did you do this to me?"

"Why did I do this to you? Jason repeated, "I hate you sometimes, true, but do I admire you? I guess so. I know I'll never be you and I guess that's why; I'm jealous. There I said it, sometimes I'm jealous of you Dick because there is something inside you that I will never have. And if you repeat this to anyone, I swear to god, I'll kill you."

"You don't need what I have, Jay. You need what you have. We both have flaws, but those flaws define us as much as the good in us," said Dick.

"For once can you act like a normal person and hate me? Why do you always have to be nice about everything?"

"Who says I'm nice about everything?" laughed Dick, "just wait till tomorrow."

The next morning, when Jason walked into the kitchen, Dick offered him a glass of orange juice. "Nice try Dick. But I'm ready for you," laughed Jason. Instead of taking the offered glass, he drank Dick's. "Thanks."

"All in a day's work," smirked Dick.

Jason eyed his brother suspiciously. He walked over the counter and took a doughnut off the little china plate. Bruce walked into the kitchen a few moments after Jason had eaten the evidence.

"Good morning boys," said Bruce unfolding his newspaper.

"Good morning," echoed Dick, Jason, and Tim.

"Where's my doughnut!" cried Bruce. "Who took my doughnut?"

"I did," answered Jason. He covered his mouth when he realized what he had just said. He had meant to lie and say it was Damien. What was wrong with him? Was he turning into a compulsive truth-teller? No, it couldn't be. Could it? He turned to Dick who was holding his stomach and laughing. "What did you do Dick!"

"I gave you a truth pill. You can only tell the truth for 24 hours. Enjoy," laughed Dick.

Bruce tapped his foot on the kitchen floor. "Well Jason, it looks like you will be buying me a new doughnut. Better get going. I have to be at the office in twenty minutes."

* * *

 **Author's Note: Thank you all for reading my stories. I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I do writing them. I thank all of you lovely people who have taken your valuable time to review my work. I really appreciate your thoughts and nit-picking. I hope I can continue to entertain you to the best of my ability.**

 **Next up,** ** _Alfred Vs. Cupid_** **: Dick gets it into his head that Alfred needs a woman, contrary to the butler's beliefs. He proceeds to play Cupid and set Alfred up with a date.**


	12. Story 12: Trust Me, I'm Lying (Epilogue)

**Story 12:** ** _Trust Me, I Was Lying_** **(the Epilogue to** ** _I Cannot Tell Lie_** **)**

It was simple in the end. All Jason had to do was avoid his brothers for 24 hours until the Truth Pills wore off. _Damnit Dick. Why do you have to know how to retaliate?_ So far, it had been a simple matter; Alfred was cleaning, Bruce was at work, Tim and Damien were at school, and Dick was at BCPD chasing traffic violators with parking tickets. However, it was nearing the end of the day, and they would all be coming home soon. Jason needed someplace to hide.

He put on some of Dick's tasteless non-descript clothes and jumped out his bedroom window. He ran down the street intending to loose himself in bustling downtown Gotham. If they set their minds to it, his brothers would be able to track him down. They were the best after all, but so was he. All he had to do was keep one step ahead of them until 8:00 tomorrow morning. It should be a simple game of hide and seek.

"Where's honest Todd? I have a few questions for him," said Damien as soon as he walked through the doors of Wayne Manor after school.

"You and me both," agreed Tim.

"And I am so going to get it all on tape," added Dick. His brothers smirked at him. They were all going to enjoy this. "Let's spilt up and find him."

They searched the house and the cave thoroughly but found no sign of Jason. However, they were able to deduce his flight from the open window in his bedroom, Dick's missing hoodie and sweats, and the footprints outside in the yard. Apparently, he was trying to give them the slip. Were they going to let him get away with that? Absolutely not. This was a job for the world's finest detective team; Nightwing, Red Robin, and Robin.

It was 2 O'clock in the morning when they caught up with him. Unfortunately for Jason, his brothers knew him better than he would have liked. As he casually walked out of the corner 7/11, he was set upon by three masked vigilantes. He put up a commendable fight, but seriously, three against one? The odds were not in his favor. Jason was bound hand and foot before being dragged back to stately Wayne Manor and securely tied to a chair in the study. Someone turned off all the lights except for a harsh interrogation lamp which was aimed at Jason's face. Jason squinted to see the faces of his brothers past the blinding light and noticed Dick was holding the video camera. _Uh,oh. Not good_.

"Where were you on the night of March 24?" asked Damien in a low accusatory voice. "You will tell me the truth Todd."

"Of course he will," said Tim rolling his eyes, "he's under the influence of a truth pill."

"I don't know. I don't keep dates for everything I do," Jason snapped.

"Do you ever think of murdering that irritating twerp, Drake, in his sleep?" Damien pressed, shoving his nose in Jason's face.

"Hey!" Tim planted his fists on his hips.

"No."

"Guys," inturputed Dick, "there's a better way to do this. Play it like truth or dare but without the option of a dare."

"What makes you think I'll answer at all?" Jason demanded angrily.

"Because if you don't, I'll send this picture of you to everyone on my contact list." Dick held up his phone so Jason could see the picture. It was a photo of Jason coming out of the pool locker-room at the YMCA in a leopard-print speedo. Dick had run off with all his other clothes and left Jason with only the embarrassing swimsuit and a note. Jason growled. Knowing Dick, it would go viral in the superhero community if he didn't cooperate. There are some people you should never cross swords with in a battle of pranks.

"Fine," he growled, "ask away."

Grinning, Tim asked, "Jason Todd, who was your first kiss?"

"Barbra Gordon." It had been innocent enough; they were playing a game of Spin the Bottle at a party. But Jason got a little satisfaction from the horrified, shocked, dumbfounded look on Dick's face. Tim looked a little disgusted and Damien just looked confused. Yeah, awkward moment. But worth it.

"Right," said Tim coming out of his trance, "what was your most cringe-worthy moment in high-school?"

"Seriously?"

"Yes. Remember the photo."

"Fine. One day it was raining and Alfred was late to pick me up, so my crush, Aleksandra Fererri, offered to drive me home. We were sitting in the back seat; I was on one end, her brother was sleeping on the other and Alex was in the middle. I decided to kiss her. So, I closed my eyes and went for it. F***'in bad idea. She bent down to grab her phone and I leaned past her and accidently kissed her older brother Michael. There was awkward silence in the car all for the rest of the drive." _When will this stupid truth pill wear off?_

His brothers were laughing hysterically. Jason tried again to get out of his ropes, but it was useless. There was just no way out of this bad situation.

"Laugh while you can. You won't laugh so easily with a split lip," Jason snarled.

"Sorry," laughed Dick, "next question: how long have you gone without showering?"

Jason's face turned red. "Nearly a month." _Stupid truth pill._

"A month?" Tim gawked at him.

"I was stranded in a back-water town in the middle of no-where New Mexico," Jason explained defensively.

"That is no excuse for smelling like a week-old donkey corps," sniffed Damien.

"Jealous much Damien," teased Tim, "you could use a shower right now yourself." That comment started a brief fight between the younger boys until Dick got fed up with it and stepped in.

"Alright Jason," said Tim returning to his master interrogator posture and straightening his sweater, "out of everyone you know, who has the coolest eyes?"

"Let's skip this one," Jason suggested. Interested now, his brothers shook their heads. "Alright. Dick. Dick has the most interesting eyes." _That just sounds wrong. Darn these truth pills. It's not what it seems_.

That got a response. Everyone went silent again and the smiles fell from their faces. "What!" cried Dick. "Jason!"

"What? Your eyes are such a cool kind of weird blue. I've never seen that color anywhere else," Jason explained. "I swear that's the reason the ladies like you so much. Lord knows there's nothing else about you worth looking at."

"Well thanks Jay!" said Dick sarcastically. "I'll have you know that there are many reasons the ladies love me."

Jason rolled his eyes. "Yeah, whatever. Dream away lover-boy. If you didn't have those eyes of yours, you'd probably strike out in a…"

"Jason," Dick snapped, "not in front of the kids. Besides, Starfire fell for me _before_ she saw my eyes."

"Well then, she must be blind."

"Ok guys," Tim butted in, "next question: what was your guilty-pleasure movie?"

Jason grumbled. He couldn't take much more of this. " _Titanic._ "

"Really? A mushy romance/tragedy? Never would have guessed," said Tim.

"Do you like _My Little Pony?_ " asked Dick laughing.

"Hell no!"

"I think the truth pills wore off."

The sun was coming up. Dick untied Jason and braced himself for the inevitable attack. Jason leapt from the chair and tackled Dick. Tim and Damien joined in and it turned into an all-out cat-fight. The ruckus woke up Bruce and the ever-alert butler. They came down the stairs; Bruce in his dressing-gown and Alfred in his pinstriped pajamas armed with a broom. They stopped when they saw the boys fighting again. Alfred sighed and rested the broom against the doorframe. Boys.

 **The next evening:**

Jason walked into the living with a scowl on his face. "What are you dorks up to?" he demanded.

Dick raised his beer. "We're going to watch _Titanic,"_ he said with a mischievous grin. "Come on and join us. We put it on just for you."

"Do you have a death wish, Dick?" growled Jason.

"Look Todd, if I have to watch this horrible- effeminate-chick-flick, so do you," snapped Damien.

"Here, here. We must all suffer together," declared Dick taking a sip of his beer. He held out a fresh bottle to Jason who walked over and snatched it angrily. The movie was starting. Jason remembered the scene and smiled where non of them could see it.

"We have caramel pop-corn," Tim tempted him.

Jason sighed. "Move over Dick." Dick shifted to the middle of the couch towards Tim to make room for Jason. "But I'm only staying until the pop-corn is gone," he promised taking the lid off his bottle of Pale Ale.

Just then, Alfred walked into the room and replenished the pop-corn bowl. "You might be here for quite a while," laughed Tim.

"I hate you all," grumbled Jason reaching for some of the butler's famous caramel-coated pop-corn. His brothers laughed because that, they knew, was a lie.

* * *

 **Author's Note: I had one request to finish the story with Jason and the truth pills. I hope you enjoyed. Special thanks to my boyfriend for the most cringeworthy moment; I never thought I'd see him kiss my brother (however unintentionally). I laughed but my brother and my boyfriend were a little less amused.**


	13. Story 13: Alfred Vs Cupid

**Story 12: Alfred Vs. Cupid**

Bruce was helping Damien with his American Literature homework by quizzing him. Looking up at his son from the textbook, he asked, "who wrote _Little Women_?"

"Lonely little men," answered Dick without missing a beat.

"No," said Bruce unimpressed.

Damien rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue. "Grayson," he muttered before answering, "Louisa May Alcott published Little Women in two volumes in 1868 and 1869. How is this possibly relevant to our life? In my opinion this information is meaningless."

"Let's move on to French shall we," Bruce suggested.

"Ah, Je suis une poisson," said Dick with a flawless accent.

"You just called yourself a fish," Tim informed him.

"Oui," said Dick with a grin. Bruce frowned. Tim rolled his eyes and went back to tutoring Emma (the same Emma Matterson from _Revenge and Advertising_ ).

She looked up from her science textbook. "You know it says here that, when people study, they only use about a fifth of their brain. But when I study with you Tim, it's like I'm using a lot more than that. Like I'm using a sixth, or a seventh, or maybe a whole eighth!"

"When you get to the part that understands math, let us know," said Bruce.

"Nice going there coach," said Dick looking over at Tim, "you want to tutor me? I only use a fourth of my brain when I study."

"Because the rest of it is devoted to bad jokes, sarcasm, and calling yourself a fish," Jason sniped as he walked in to the living room with his beer.

"You do know that I speak, French, English, Russian, Mandarin, Cantonese, Romani, Spanish, Japanese, Tameranian, and Pig Latin, right? You wouldn't even know what I said if Tim hadn't translated for you, because you don't speak French," Dick shot back.

"Who doesn't speak French?" Jason demanded. "Merci, si vous plait, and ooh la la."

This time, Tim head-desked. "I can't take much more of this," he groaned.

Just then, Alfred walked into the room and stationed himself before Bruce. "Sir, I have finished the laundry and altering Master Timothy's costume for the school play. I have also finished the dishes for the night, so as far as I am concerned, the kitchen is closed until further notice. I have also taken the liberty of having the Bentley washed and fueled for your excursion tomorrow."

"Thanks Alfred," said Bruce.

"If that will be all sir, I would like to retire for the evening _before patrol starts and I'm here worrying about you._ " But Alfred left the latter part unsaid.

"Certainly," agreed Bruce turning his attention back to Damien's homework. The ever reserved butler bowed slightly and walked out of the room.

Emma turned from Alfred to Bruce to Tim. "That man needs a woman," she stated. As an outsider, she provided a fresh look into their family lives even though her observations were only surface deep.

Dick nodded wordlessly. He was getting one of those plans into his head. The kind of plan that could either work out really well or be a total disaster. Most people would brush it off as a passing fancy, but this was Dick Grayson. He went through with cray hair-brained schemes. He'd set Alfred up with Maggie, Alfred's old flame from England, while Bruce was away for the weekend with Lucius. Candle light dinner for two, music, the works. After all, didn't the old man deserve a little romance in his life too?

Emma picked up her books and rose from her seat. "Well I've got to be getting home. Thanks for your help Tim."

"Bye Emma," called Dick.

"Farewell distraction," waved Damien.

Tim closed the door behind Emma and slumped against it. "I think she gave me a headache," he complained putting a hand on his forehead. "How is she going to graduate high school?"

"If you think Emma's having a hard time in school, you'd be surprised by some of the numb-sculls I went to school with," said Jason. "There was this one guy in 1st grade who decided to bomb the spelling Bee in the first round because he knew he wasn't going to win. He spelled cow 'K-O-W'. Then when he passed me to sit down he said, 'I know there's two O's'."

"And you would have spelled it ' _C_ -O-O-W'?" teased Tim.

"I feel like you're mocking me," said Jason darkly.

 **The next day:**

Dick called a "Wayne boys meeting" in the den after breakfast. He perched himself on the end table as he watched his brothers carefully. Damien was sitting in the office chair petting Bat-cat on his lap and sporting a "this had better be important" look on his face. Tim walked in staring at something on his laptop and looking painfully deep in thought. As for Jason, he flopped full-length on the couch and folded his arms over his chest.

"What are you up to Dick?" demanded Jason. He looked very put-out.

"I need your help with a little project," Dick began.

"That is the understatement of the century, Grayson," said Damien, "you always need help with something. What have you gotten yourself into this time?"

Dick looked possibly hurt. That assessment of him wasn't quite true. However, he ignored that comment and continued, "something Emma said last night has been on my mind. She made a suggestion that I think is worth following."

"Oh great! Now we're going to take advice form a girl who only uses an eighth of her brain," grumbled Jason.

"Well it does take intelligence to be stupid," Dick tried to defend her.

"Do you mind if I think about that?" asked Tim finally looking up from his computer.

"If you must," Dick answered. "But what I want you guys to help me with is setting Alfred up on a date with Maggie Kirk. She and Alfred were a thing until Batman kind of got in the way. I talked to Alfred about it last night; but he said, and I quote, 'I do not need an frivolous relationships with women. Cupid missed and I'm glad he did. I find it easiest to be an old bachelor.'"

"And you want to play Cupid even though he told you not too," Jason stated. A wicked smile spread across his previously aggravated face. "Count me in."

"I will cooperate as well. Pennyworth would benefit from some distraction. As will I, if he can be distracted long enough for me get rid of that lavender laundry detergent. That smell is offensive," said Damien.

"Great!" cried Dick jumping up. "When Bruce leaves, I'll pick up Maggie and Bring her here for dinner. Jason, you cook. Damien, you decorate the terrace. And Tim, you go through Alfred's old records for some music. Oh, and one more thing; we have to keep Alfred out of the way while we hatch this scheme."

"Ok," said Jason, "one cheesy romantic dinner for two coming up."

"How do I decorate the terrace?" asked Damien.

"I don't know. Romantic with lots of flowers I think. Picture Valentine's day," answered Dick.

"Must I defile our house with roses?" wined Damien.

"It's either roses or a Robin costume that smells like lavender."

"Fine," Damien grumbled.

The boys started to file out of the room. All except Tim who remained seated. His thoughtful expression faded and he looked up at Dick. "No. It defiantly does not requite intelligence to be stupid," he pronounced. Now it was Dick's turn to role his eyes.

Later, Bruce left for his weekend away and the boys got to work. They locked Alfred in is room upstairs and began decorating the terrace. Jason was in charge of the cuisine; he tied the apron around his waist and began making Beef Wellington, fresh bread roles, and a beautiful garden salad. Tim was upstairs looking through the records Alfred kept in the attic and the old record player. Damien was in charge of decorations and, although he despised flowers, he made the terrace look like something straight out of a romance movie. Dick was picking up Maggie in the Maserati (Damien accused him of keeping the most fun job for himself).

Tim came down stairs with the record player and set it up on a little table on the terrace. Jason set the steaming bread and butter on the table. The pleasant aroma of fresh baked bread wafted into the air. It looked like everything was ready and absolutely perfect. Now they were just waiting for Dick to get back with Maggie. What could go wrong?

Having finally escaped his room, a very irritated butler stormed down the stairs and out onto the terrace. "Masters Jason, Timothy, and Damien! I demand to know the meaning of this outrage? Locking me in my room is such a childish prank! Furthermore…" Alfred's gaze swept the decked-out terrace before him. "What is going on here?"

"We were just beautifying the place for your date tonight, Alfred. No need to get so worked up. We just wanted to surprise you," explained Tim.

"Surprise me!" cried the butler, "I haven't been so shell-shocked since I was in her majesty's air force! What date?"

"Your date with Maggie," said Jason folding his arms over his chest. "You can thank Dick later."

"Master Dick. I should have known."

"He's picking up Maggie right now, so I suggest that you make yourself presentable, Pennyworth," said Damien.

"I have no intention of doing any such thing," sniffed Alfred, "Master Jason, you will call Master Dick right now and tell him to…"

"Tell me what, Alfie?" Dick walked onto the terrace with Maggie.

Alfred's eyes goggled. Maggie slipped her arm out from Dick's and handed the young man her wrap. She was dressed in a midnight blue evening gown with the shining starlight earrings Alfred had given her years ago. Her silver hair shone like her sterling silver jewelry, purely natural and untainted with hair dye. She was, in a word, breathtaking. She walked over to Alfred and he kissed the back of her hand.

Tim walked over to the record player and turned it on. Soft jazz started to play. Jason lifted the cloth off the bread and the aroma seemed to be calling the reluctant love birds to their seats. Deciding it was best to be a gentleman, Alfred pulled out a chair for Maggie and waited for her to take her seat. He cast Dick a "you're going to pay for this later" look. Dick and Damien fist-bumped discreetly in the corner as Alfred sat down across from Maggie. Jason and Tim faded themselves into the background and retreated back into the house.

Dick and Tim at any rate took great pleasure in being able to wait on Alfred for a change. It was a way for them to show their appreciation. After all, he was part of their family. Although he had helped set things up, Damien still believed that waiting on a table was beneath him. They served the entre without incident. Jason was proud to hear that Maggie and Alfred sent their compliments on his cooking.

However, as they prepared to serve dessert, Dick noticed one important thing: the dessert was gone. "What happened to the strawberry shortcakes and ice cream?" he demanded.

"Nothing," said Jason, "it was delicious."

"Sacre chat!" exclaimed Dick punching his hand in irritation, "that's French for 'holy cats'." He explained for Jason's benefit.

"La plume est sur la table!" exclaimed Jason mimicking Dick's gesture of aggravation. "That means: the pen is on the table," he translated.

"Oh, God have mercy," said Tim clasping his hands before him and looking up at the ceiling.

"Todd!" cried Damien, "you will amend this atrocity at once by preparing a substitute dessert or you die."

Jason shook his head flippantly and turned back to the countertop to make another dessert. "I'm too full to argue and I'm too fat to die." He patted his rather full stomach contentedly.

Dick groaned. "I'll stall Alfred and Maggie."

He walked back to the terrace and suggested that the couple dance because dessert was going to be late due to some, "avoidable circumstances beyond our control". They had just gotten up and started dancing, when the record flipped _. I Whip My Hair_ blasted full volume into the night. Ace howled. Maggie gripped Alfred who covered his ears.

The startling noise triggered Dick's Nightwing reflexes and he backflipped onto the dinner table breaking it. He knocked over the candles and the table cloth caught on fire. In a moment, there was an impromptu bonfire on the terrace. Dick gasped. Oops. Maggie grabbed the vase of roses and threw the water over Dick and the fire while Alfred broke the record over his knee. The romantic mood was broken. Dick looked up at Alfred helplessly; he was soaking wet and covered with rose petals. His appearance can best be described as pitiful and comical.

"Sorry about all this," he said, "I guess I shouldn't have tried to play cupid."

Alfred glared down at him. "Maybe not."

"What happened?" demanded Tim as he and Damien came running.

"Grayson, are you accident prone?" asked Damien planting his hands on his hips.

Maggie started laughing. Then Alfred started laughing. He helped Dick get to his feet. "Thank you, Master Dick. This has been the most fun I've had in a long time."

"What made you change your mind?" asked Tim confused.

"I guess I didn't remember what I was missing," Alfred admitted. He didn't really know why he had such a change of heart in so short a time. Perhaps, seeing the mess and the shocked look on Dick's face unlocked something inside him; Maggie's laugh helped him see it.

Just then, Jason walked in with the dessert. He looked around in confusion. "What did I miss?"

Alfred took the dessert from him. "Thank you, Master Jason. Maggie and I will take these down but the pool." Maggie smiled and slipped her arm under Alfred's. They walked off together into the summer evening. Alfred had lost the battle with cupid.

* * *

 ** _Author's Note: Thank you all for reading. I hope you enjoyed._**

 ** _NEXT UP: Your choice. If you have one, leave your preference in the reviews._**

 **Family Portrait:** The family starts acting up after a mission and Dick get's fed up trying to keep them all together. He goes back to his apartment in Bludhaven. Lost without him, Bruce, Jason, Tim, and Damien work together to have a family portrait painted to show Dick how much of a family they can be.

 **OR**

 **Romeo is the Sun:** Tim gets cast as Romeo in his high-school production of _Romeo and Juliet_. But he has some nerves about performing, so Dick tries to help him prepare.


	14. Story 14: Romeo is the Sun

**Story 14: Romeo is the Sun**

"Romeo, Romeo, where art thou Romeo?" cried Dick. He swept his gaze dramatically from one side of the room to the other. Loose pieces of the mop on his head swung over his eyes as he did so.

Tim was going to play Romeo in his high school production of _Romeo and Juliet_. He had enlisted his older brother's help to practice his lines. Unfortunately, Dick wasn't taking it seriously. Dick, true to character, had good naturedly agreed to read the part of Juliet so Tim could practice Romeo. Of course with Dick, one always gets more than one bargains for.

Dick decided to get into character to do the role justice for Tim. Of course, this being Dick and all, the meant semi-mocking the character and turning one of history's most famous tragedies into a comedy. At the moment, Juliet was wearing the top of Alfred's mop on his head as a wig and a Bruce's bedsheet as a dress (it looked more like a slack toga). Whenever anyone walked into the living room, they burst out laughing.

"Dick! Stop," pleaded Tim, "I'm laughing too hard to concentrate.

"Laughter is the best medicine for nerves," said Dick with a smile that could rival the brilliance of a supernova.

"At least get rid of the toga! It's impossible to think straight when every time I look at you, I crack up."

Dick adjusted the bed sheet over his shoulder. "I'll have you know Juliet would never be seen without her dress on. It's absurd. Romeo, thou pervert!" He said the last part in his high-pitched Juliet voice.

"Please!" cried Tim, "my stomach hurts."

"No dice in the covering Romeo. You'll have to marry me first."

Tim groaned. "You're impossible!"

Back in the foyer, Alfred opened the door for Stephanie Brown. She walked in a little awkwardly. It had been some time since she had been to the manor. "Hey Alfred. Is Tim here?" she inquired.

"Tim's in the living room with Juliet," Jason supplied in passing.

Stephanie's eyes widened on two accounts. The first being, that she was stunned to see Jason at the manor and acting civil. The second being, that he had just told her Tim was in the living room with _Juliet._ Her face turned red with anger. Who was this Juliet? How dare Tim to this to her after they had just gotten back together?

She pressed her back against the wall leading into the living room and listened. She heard Tim's unmistakable voice say "Juliet, how I love thee." Stephanie's face grew hotter. She clenched her fists by her sides and let her purse fall to the ground at her feet. She had to put an end to this. This Juliet had to leave and she had strong words of Tim too.

"Timothy Drake!" she shouted at the top of her voice, "how could you? Juliet?!" She stormed into the living room and stopped short. She had been expecting to see Tim with another beautiful girl, but instead, she just saw him standing awkwardly in the middle of the room holding a script. Dick was standing rather dumbfounded on the coffee table in a make-shift toga and a ridiculous looking mop head for a wig.

"Stephanie?" asked Tim hesitantly. The poor guy looked utterly baffled.

Stephanie's face reddened again, this time with embarrassment. "Jason said you were in the living room with Juliet. I assumed…I…I thought you were with another girl."

Dick's dumbfounded expression faded and he burst out laughing. "You thought I was…?...Haha, oh nice one Jay!"

"It could have happened to anyone!" Stephanie snapped.

"True," Dick conceded. He turned to Tim back in his mockery of Juliet character. "Another woman?" he screamed pitching his voice as high as he could. "Romeo, how could'st thou do this to me! Thou two faced jigalo!" Dick jumped off the coffee table and marched over to Tim. He smacked his brother with the script. "May thou findeth spiders in thy bed and fish in thy slippers, thou faithless donkey!" Dick stormed out of the room.

Stephanie and Tim turned to each other unsure of what to make of Dick/Juliet's dramatic exit. From the other room they heard Alfred say, "Master Dick! What _have_ you done to my mop?" Then they heard Dick and Jason roar with laughter. Tim rolled his eyes. Brothers.

"Sorry about that Tim," said Stephanie nervously rubbing her elbow. "I was just jealous, I guess. I don't want to lose you again."

"You won't," he promised putting a hand on hers. "Would you take over for Dick and read Juliet's part?"

Stephanie nodded. She took Dick's abandon copy of the script and sat down on the couch next to Tim. They worked on the play together for a few hours before Alfred called everyone for dinner. Stephanie decided to stay for the meal and the two of them sat down together side by side. Dick came running in and did a flawless handspring over the table, landing on the other side of Stephanie. From the head of the table, Bruce shook his head and hid a grin behind his napkin.

The stately butler walked in with the salad bowl, bread roles, and a rather unimpressed look on his face. "Master Dick, how many times have I told you that such shows of hooliganism are not to be displayed at the dinner table? How are you going to set a good example for Master Damien if you continue these antics?"

"I don't need to take an example from Grayson, Pennyworth. I already know proper table manners. Unlike some, I was not raised in a zoo," Damien stated matter of factly, casting a sideways glance at Dick.

Digging into his steak, Bruce decided to change the subject. "How's the play going Tim? Are you ready to perform tomorrow?"

"Of course I am," said Tim, but he wasn't as enthusiastic as he sounded.

"You know, Dick played Romeo at your age. He did a great job!" said Bruce.

"So I keep hearing at school," muttered Tim looking down at his plate.

"It was a truly magnificent performance," added Alfred, "I didn't know Master Dick could act."

"I was born a performer, Alfie. It's in my blood," said Dick.

"I was in a high school play, too," Jason put it, "I was the front half of the cow in _Jack and the Bean Stock_."

"How did you get stuck with that role?" asked Stephanie.

"I happen to have a very convincing 'moo'," Jason replied haughtily.

"Oh Todd. Are you sure it wasn't because you _smelled_ like a cow?" asked Damien snarkily. And that started a food fight.

 **Really early the next morning:**

After patrol, Tim and Dick were back in the living room working on, or trying to work on, the play. It was four in the morning and Dick had passed out on the couch with a copy of the script in his hand. Tim was sitting up, studying ever line again and again and again. Even though he could recite the entire play line for line, he still had nerves about performing.

He was fairly confident that he would remember his lines and Qs, but that wasn't the same thing as being prepared to perform. Ever since he had taken on this daunting role, people at school kept telling him about the people who played Romeo before him. His drama teacher, Mr. Louter, remembered Dick quite well. Dick had played Romeo years ago and to this day, Mr. Louter praised the performance. According to Louter, neither of the two Romeos since Dick had come close to matching the brilliance of his performance.

For Tim trying to pull off the same role as his brother, Mr. Louter's comments on the subject put tremendous amounts of pressure on him. Between homework for other classes, patrol as Red Robin, and the play, Tim was stressed almost to his limits. He hadn't had a decent night's sleep in weeks.

Tim looked over as his brother sleeping on the other couch. Of course Dick had to have played Romeo at the same high school. Dick was the "Boy Wonder" after all, and Tim was pretty sure he'd never out-grow that. Dick was the first Robin, the kindest person, the one most likely to take over as Batman (no matter what Damien said), and the first Romeo. He was everything. Heck, Dick even looked like the perfect Romeo.

Nerves on edge about the upcoming performance, Tim shook his older brother awake. "Come one Dick, wake up. I need your help here." And he hated to admit that. But if anyone to help him become a worthy Romeo, he was sure it was Dick.

"Tim, you know every line by heart. You could play the entire cast if you wanted to," said Dick sleepily.

"But I'm not ready."

"Yes, you are. What's this about, Tim? You never get nervous. You fight bad guys and kick butt as a super hero. This play should be, well, child's play."

Tim looked back down at the script. His eyes burned with fatigue. "I'm not a performer, Dick. You are."

A light bulb went on inside Dick's head and he pushed himself to a sitting position. "Is this about taking on the role after me?"

"No…well, maybe a little. I don't know…yes."

"Tim look at me. You took over as Robin, and you did a great job. This is the same thing. You'll do just great as Romeo. I know it. You've never failed at anything," said Dick standing. He put his hands on Tim's shoulders and pulled him up off the couch. "You need to get to bed. Romeo can't have big purple bags under his eyes."

"The make-up crew can fix that," Tim argued.

Dick just laughed but interrupted himself with a yawn.

Too tired to resist, Tim let Dick guide him up-stairs to his room. He flopped on his bed without bothering to change out of his jeans. He heard Dick slip out of the room and close the door behind him. Tim was asleep before Dick made it down the hall to his own room.

 **Later at school:**

Tim was putting on yet another one of Dick's costumes. And just like when he first put on the Robin costume, he thought it looked ridiculous. A snazzy dresser, Romeo was not. He tried not to think about the bats flying around in his stomach as someone called, "twenty minutes to curtain". His fellow actors didn't seem to be suffering the same anxiety as he was.

He knew Alfred and Maggie were sitting in the front row on their second date. Bruce was there with Celina. Dick and Barbra were there. Stephanie was there with her supportive smile. Jason was there with the love of his life; his beer (he had smuggled it into the auditorium). And Damien was there with his scowl. Everyone was there to watch him. He should have felt supported but instead it just made him more nervous that they were watching.

He turned his head from the mirror as someone said, "excuse me sir, but this area is restricted. Actors and stage hands only."

"It's alright, Cloe," said Mr. Louter, "this is Dick Grayson."

Dick walked into the dressing area back stage. Tim felt so small and over looked as everyone in the cast ran up to talk to Dick about the time he played Romeo (most of them girls). A few of them even asked for his autograph. Mr. Louter put a hand on Dick's shoulder and said, "welcome back son. I hear you're a cop in Bludhaven now."

"That's right," answered Dick.

Mr. Louter shook his head. "Well, if you do to Bludhaven what you did to this high school, that city is finished."

"Oh, ha ha," laughed Dick sarcastically. "Can I have a few minutes with my brother before the show?"

As if remembering Tim for the first time, Mr. Louter nodded. "Just be quick and get to your seat."

Dick walked over to Tim who was doing an Oscar worthy job hiding his nerves from anyone who didn't know him very well. To Dick though, he looked like a wreck. "Hey Tim, I just wanted to give you something and to say good luck. Not that you need it, of course." He put something very small into Tim's hand.

"Thanks Dick. A bracelet," said Tim, "just what I needed."

"Look at it carefully," said Dick laughing.

It was a worn, hand woven bracelet with a home-made plaster robin bead and a Bat. Between the two beads was a newer Nightwing charm made out of silver. "Barbra made this for me when I played Romeo and I'd like you to have it," Dick explained, "she told me the robin was to remind me of who I am and the bat was to remind me that I have family. I added the Nightwing charm this morning for you. I know Nightwing means more to me than he does to you; but I like to think he's a symbol that we can all become whoever we chose to be. It doesn't matter who's shadow we're in."

Tim looked up at him. "Maybe."

Dick put a hand on his shoulder. "Tim, all you have to do is step under that spotlight, and you'll cast your own shadow." Time was up and Dick had to go back to the auditorium. He waved to Tim. "I'd say 'break a leg', but who really wants to do that?"

Tim looked back down at the little faded bracelet in his hand. It was nothing. Just a little token that could give him neither courage nor luck. Tim wasn't sentimental or superstitious. He thought about putting it on the desk as he headed into the wings. But something stopped him. He slipped it around his wrist and tucked it under his sleeve.

The play was starting. The pre-show voice was welcoming the audience and the music started to play. The bats in his stomach here going wild now. Tim nervously rubbed his wrists to wipe the sweat off his palms. That's when he felt the bracelet. Without knowing what he was doing, Tim fingered the Nightwing bead. Dick's words rang through his head, _all you have to do is step into the spotlight, and you'll cast your own shadow_. Suddenly he understood the little Nightwing on his wrist.

Tim squared his shoulders and walked onto the stage. He stepped under the spotlight and saw his shadow. He smiled. The play began. And then it ended. The entire audience was on their feet giving them as standing ovation. When Tim took his bow, they screamed and cheered. Tim spotted Dick behind Alfred and Maggie. There was a proud smile on his face.

When Tim got back stage after the show, Stephanie rushed over to him and clamped him in a tight hug. "You were amazing!" she cried.

"Well done," said Bruce walking up with Celina who nodded in agreement.

"A magnificent performance, Master Timothy!" Alfred beamed.

"Not bad, replacement," said Jason giving him a rare approving two thumbs up.

"It was an acceptable performance. Congratulations, Drake," said Damien.

Tim smiled at all of them. But his eyes shone when he saw Dick come up behind them pushing Barbra's wheel chair. Her smile was radiant as she congratulated him. Tim accepted her praise gracefully but rushed past everyone and tackled Dick in a bear hug. Out of character? Well, maybe. But he was just that happy.

"I did it, Dick! I did it!" he said.

Dick's arms tightened around him. "I knew you would."

"And you were right about everything. Thank you."

Just then, Mr. Louter walked up to the two boys and put a hand on each of their shoulders. "An extraordinary performance Tim! That was the best I've see the role done in long time. I'm very proud of you, Timothy. In fact, the critics have asked us to add another performance. Are you up for it?"

"Yes sir!" said Tim with genuine enthusiasm.

In the car on the way home, everyone talked about how wonderful the show was. Dick was characteristically the loudest of the bunch. But Tim remained silent with one hand in Stephanie's and the other fingering the bracelet. Maybe he didn't believe in luck, but he believed in Nightwing. And he believed in himself.

* * *

 **Author's Note: Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed the story.**

 **Coming Up Next: Family Portrait**


	15. Story 15: Family Portait

**Story 15: Family Portrait**

The Batfamily had just returned from a disastrous attempt to stop a major weapons deal in the industrial district of Gotham City. Damien yanked back his hood and ripped off his mask before glaring up at his father. Bruce pulled back his cowl and glared back at Damien before turning on his heels and storming up the stairs. Jason took of his red helmet and threw it at the floor with vengeance. "What did that floor ever do to you Jason?" Dick joked as he helped Tim up the stairs. Jason ignored him.

Dick helped Tim up onto the examination table and Alfred began taking care of the boy's injured leg. Dick looked around the room at his brooding family. Bruce and Damien weren't talking. Bruce and Jason weren't talking. Jason and Tim weren't talking. Tim and Damien weren't talking. Once again, Dick found himself in the middle of a family battle of silence. He looked at Alfred for help only to realize that Alfred and Bruce weren't talking. Tension in the room was building. Dick could feel it as a physical weight on his chest and it was suffocating. He rubbed his forehead trying not to pass out.

Exasperated by the silent treatments going around, Dick decided it was past time someone did something about it. "Come on guys, silence isn't going to fix this. We're a family. A very dysfunctional family; but still a family."

"There's nothing to talk about," Bruce snapped, "I did what I had to do to protect you."

"So, did I! Shooting at those people was just to protect my, I can't believe I'm saying this, my brothers. Because you, Bruce, put us into a dangerous situation without telling us important details," Jason shouted.

"You know killing is wrong in all circumstances," Bruce shouted back.

"That's your view, father. If you had trusted us, it wouldn't have come to that," Damien accused.

"If you were more worthy of trust, I would have told you everything," Bruce countered.

"More worthy of your trust?" spat Jason incredulously.

"Maybe you would be if you didn't go into killer mode and try to shoot people. I thought we were "brothers"," Tim put in.

"Hey, you shouldn't have gotten in my way Replacement," snapped Jason, "I was in the right. They were hostile armed criminals. The police and the army would shoot those people without a second thought."

"Ok, hold it right there people. Jason and Damien, killing people doesn't determine who is right- it determines who is left," said Dick.

"Thank you Dick-" began Bruce.

"But," continued Dick, "you should have told us the truth about arms deal, the Joker's involvement, and the gas bombs. Trust has to be earned, but I think we've earned that by now. Sometimes you have to take a leap of faith. Every one of us has stepped up when you needed us to…"

"Shut up, Dick," snapped Jason, "you can't get Bruce out of this one. He won't listen to you."

"I'm not trying to get him out of anything, I'm trying to help you people get along because the way you behave sometimes." Dick shook his head. "It tears me apart."

"If you can't take it, maybe you should go away," suggested Jason.

Dick backed up a pace, shocked and hurt. "Maybe I will!" he shouted back. "You people can just figure things out yourselves. If I'm the only one who wants us to be a family, then, fine. You can all go your separate ways. Try not to die." He stormed out of the cave.

Everyone else remained motionless and silent. They had all forgotten that Dick had his own temper. They had all gotten used to the goofy, slightly annoying, cuddly, happy-go-lucky side of his character. Sometimes they forgot that he could hurt like the rest of them; that there were limits to how patient and tolerant he could be.

"It's been a while since I've see that side of Master Dick," said Alfred. "And I must say, I'm proud of him for showing it this time."

Bruce glared at the old man who only lifted his chin and his tray and walked away.

 **One Day After Dick Returned to Bludhaven** :

"Alright, I'm going to say it; I miss Grayson," said Damien, "Drake and Todd, you were much more tolerable when he was around."

"I miss him too," said Tim.

"We agree on something? That's a first," said Jason.

"So how do we get him to come back?" asked Damien ignoring that remark.

"Simple," answered Jason, "we kidnap him."

"No." Tim looked up from his laptop. "Dick left because he was glue that kept us together and he got stretched too thin. He broke. Now we have to step up and show him that we've glued ourselves together. If we can show him we're a family, he'll come home."

"You mean if I want Grayson back, I have to be buddy-buddy with you two? I have to apologize, forgive, make up, and all that horrible stuff?" shrieked Damien.

Tim and Jason nodded.

"Oh, the sacrifices I have to make to retain my sanity!" Damien clasped his hands and looked up at the ceiling. "Ok, I'm in. How do we prove it to Grayson?"

Tim looked around the room thoughtfully. Finally, his eyes landed on the Wayne family portrait painted while Bruce's Parents were still alive. It hung in a thick gold frame over the fireplace. It was a beautiful work of art. A light bulb flickered on inside his head. "We have a family portrait painted with everyone."

"How medieval," commented Jason dryly.

"It sounds reasonable. My grandfather had several portraits painted of himself. I will talk to father directly and make him help us," declared Damien. He stood and left the room with purpose.

"Good luck _making_ Bruce do anything," muttered Tim.

Jason pulled out a gun and cocked a bullet into the chamber. He struck a pose and made ready to follow Damien.

"No," said Tim in an unimpressed tone.

Damien barged into Bruce's study. Bruce looked up at his son from behind a book and raised an eyebrow at him. Otherwise, he remained perfectly still and quiet. He waited until Damien was practically on top of him before asking, "do you want something, Damien?"

"Yes father, I want Grayson back. Drake has devised a plan and you will help us execute it."

Bruce steepled his fingers. "What does this plan entail?"

"We must act like a family and have a portrait painted of us together."

Bruce hated sitting for pictures or portraits. But just this once, he would consent. He wasn't about to admit that he missed Dick or drag his sorry butt to Bludhaven and bring his eldest son home; but the truth was, he missed Dick desperately. He had gotten used to all the bad jokes and the lighter mood again. Only one day without him, and Bruce was ready to do the most distasteful thing he could think of. He would sit for a portrait. But, he figured that if this was one of Tim's plans, it would probably work.

"Very well, Damien. You have my cooperation," Bruce agreed.

"Good. I will send for the best artist in Gotham directly. And be sure to dust off your smile. You know how Grayson feels about grouches." Damien left the room again.

The next day, Gotham City's finest artist, Claud Monroe, arrived at Wayne manor to paint the portrait. He was a little man with a thin curly mustache and a balding head which he kept mostly hidden under his red beret. He wore a large white pain smock that came down past his knees. Mr. Monroe set up his easel and canvases in the Livingroom as the three boys filed in wearing their suits.

Damien tugged at his tie uncomfortably. "This better not take too long Monroe," he warned the artist in passing.

"An artist must never be rushed. Perfection can only be achieved by careful and steady hands," Mr. Monroe informed him.

"Just get to work," growled Jason, "spare us the artist yack."

"If you will all take your seats gentlemen."

Bruce, Alfred, Jason, Tim, and Damien situated themselves on and around the sofa in front of the fireplace. Bruce sat in the middle of the couch and Damien sat a respectable distance away from him. Even though they were all getting together to make this happen, they still weren't getting along.

Mr. Monroe started waving his paintbrush at them. "Mr. Wayne, a little to your left. You, skinny tall kid with the red tie, you sit on the other side of Mr. Wayne. You, big guy with the tuft of white hair, try to look less like a gun runner and more like a gentleman."

Jason scowled but straightened his posture. Deciding to mess with the artist, because that's what he did, Jason imitated pompous English gentlemen one sees on TV. The look was obviously way over done. Alfred snickered from behind Bruce. It was a start, the old man supposed. As for Monroe, he was tempted to go bang his head on the wall.

"Now get closer. Squish in a little," Monroe instructed.

"Must we?" demanded Damien, grinding his teeth.

Monroe put his hands on his hips. "Do you want me to paint this picture or not? When you hire the best artist in Gotham, you do what he tells you to do. My paintings are brilliant for one reason, attention to detail. Now squish in and make it snappy." Grumbling, the family began to shift closer together.

Monroe kept signaling for them to move in until they were almost touching each other. If they had thought they could smile through the sitting before, they were all pretty doubtful now. The next hour of so was almost unbearable. Monroe kept saying things like: "chin a little higher" or "try not to blink, I'm working on your eyes" or "stay still, I can't paint you strangling each other! Heavens!" It was getting to the point where Damien and Jason were getting restless and were probably ready to have the fussy artist drawn and quartered.

"Mr. Jason, try to smile. I can't paint you looking like Grinch who stole Christmas," said the artist.

Jason was pretty thoroughly fed up with Monroe at this point. He put on an exaggerated grin showing all his teeth and then some.

Monroe let his arms fall dramatically exasperated to his sides. "I can't paint you looking like a hyena on laughing gas either!"

"Cooperate Todd!" snapped Damien, "or we'll be here forever."

"No talking," ordered Monroe, "I can't paint mouths in motion. Zipp 'em."

"Can we breathe?" asked Tim sarcastically.

"I wish you wouldn't. It makes it hard to get an exact measure of your waist."

Tim rolled his eyes and Bruce massaged his forehead in an attempt to get rid of his growing head ache. This had better be worth it. Jason slumped over the back of the sofa moaning.

"Don't move!" shouted Monroe angrily. Jason straightened up again. "You moved!"

"Todd!" Damien ground out through his teeth.

"Hey, I can't take much more of this," snapped Jason.

"It's not for you. It's for Dick, so try to take it like a man," said Tim.

"I wish you wouldn't…" Alfred began.

"Ugh, such impossible people! How am I supposed to paint a portrait when you move like this? Now Mr. Wayne's hair looks like he got a bad perm!" Monroe exclaimed throwing his hands in the air.

"Boys, settle down now," ordered Bruce.

Jason glared at him, and left the room. He obeyed the calls for him to "get his butt back here." The thing was, he didn't come back in his suit. When Jason returned, he was wearing his jeans and leather jacket again. He had grabbed a bottle of beer and a cigarette. Damien and Bruce looked like they were going to kill him. Tim looked like he was going to faint. And Alfred looked positively petrified.

As for the artist, Monroe grabbed the sides of his hat and pulled it down over his eyes. "Ah!" he screamed, "Mr. Jason, you're messing up the whole picture! I can't repaint you entirely and it doesn't match the rest of the family." The little man was practically ripping out chunks of what little hair he had left.

"I can't stand that monkey suit another minute!" declared Jason. "We've been at this long enough."

"You get back in that monkey suit, Todd, and stand still!" shouted Damien.

"Make me," Jason challenged.

And that was enough for Damien. He was off the couch and at Jason's throat before you could say Batman and Robin. Jason had already braced himself for the inevitable and the two were going at it hard core. Jason accidently splashed his beer down Alfred's shirt and jacket, soaking the poor old bystander. Bruce and Tim leaped into the battle in a futile attempt to put it to and end. Monroe cowered in the corner behind his painting, biting his finger nails.

After a solid ten minutes, they finally gave it up. But not before they had destroyed the room and their suits. Their cheeks were all two shades redder and their hair was standing on end with sweat. Their ties, jackets, and shirts were in a sorry state of affairs.

When Monroe finally emerged from behind his painting he gasped at the wreckage and stumbled backwards. He toppled the painting sending it crashing to the floor. When he picked it up, some of the wet paint clung to the carpet. The artist nearly burst into tears. "You people are impossible!" he cried. "Mr. Wayne, it has been a pleasure to meet you but I quit!"

"But Mr. Monroe…" Bruce began.

"No. No, I will not stay. You have had your chance to be painted by the great Michael Angelo of our time. But I will not stay with you bunch of hoodlums another minute!" He stormed out of the room. And then stormed right back in again and grabbed his easel and paints. Wordlessly, he stuffed his nose in the air and walked out again importantly.

"That went well," said Tim sarcastically.

Bruce bent over and picked up the partially complete painting. While what had been done of it was beautiful from an artistic perspective. But it was lacking something. It didn't capture them as a family. Without his little scowl and leather jacket, Jason didn't look like Jason. Without his attitude, Damien didn't look like Damien. Without the calculating eyes, Tim didn't look like Tim. Without the parental combination of a smile and seriousness, Alfred didn't look like Alfred. The blank smiles were a lie just like the façade they were putting on to pose for it.

"We've been going about this wrong," said Bruce, "I think Jason had the right idea when he came back in his jacket with the beer."

"Say what now?" asked Jason. He looked like he had just swallowed a frog.

"We were putting up a front. Putting on suits and trying to look close is just the kind of lie that rips people apart. So, to take the first step towards making things real; I'm sorry I didn't tell you all the truth before that mission," said Bruce.

Non of the boys had been expecting an apology. Bruce never gave any.

"And I am sorry for disobeying orders," said Damien.

"Yeah, me too. I guess. Next time I'll use rubber bullets. Mostly," said Jason. It was a little flippant, but that was more than you could expect from him. "And sorry I took you out of my way the hard way, Tim."

Tim shrugged. "That's what I get for standing between criminals and a gun. I know you weren't aiming to kill. If you had been, they'd all have been dead."

"So, what now, may I ask?" inquired Alfred.

"We have another picture painted. And this time, it's going to capture everyone the way they really are," answered Bruce.

 **Two Days Later:**

Dick was catching a few hours of rest between being Officer Grayson and going out as Nightwing. He let his eyes roam his apartment. It was filthy and lonely, but it was home. Well, sort of. He wondered what they others were up to. Had they sorted things out or had they all gone their separate ways again? He was afraid to find out. Dick got of the couch to get himself another bowl of cereal when there was a knock at the door.

Curious, half expecting the land lady, he walked to the door and opened it. When he did, he stood petrified in the door way. There was his family; Bruce, Alfred, Jason, Tim, and Damien. To say he was surprised would be an understatement.

"Are you going to invite us in, Grayson, or shall we push past you?" asked Damien.

"Yeah, come on in." Dick moved aside and they all crowed into the apartment.

"Love what you've done with the place," said Tim throwing a bath towel off the back of one of the kitchen stools and swiping the socks off the counter.

"Sorry, this place is a mess," said Dick running a hand through his hair. He looked sheepishly at Alfred. "What brings you guys here?"

"Cereal," answered Jason pouring himself a bowl of Lucky Charms.

"Todd," grumbled Damien before answering more seriously, "you Grayson. As if there is any other reason for showing up in this hell hole of a city."

"We wanted to show you something," said Bruce.

For the first time, Dick noticed the huge frame Bruce had been carrying around. Bruce set it up against the wall. A bright smile lit over Dick's face. It was a painting of the whole family. In the picture, Bruce was sitting in the middle of the couch with his news paper. Tim was curled up and one end in his sweater and socks with a slight smile. Jason was sitting on the armrest with his beer. Damien sat on the other side of Bruce with Bat-cat. And Alfred stood behind Bruce looking as dignified as ever. But the thing that really surprised him was that they had painted him into the picture; him with his sweatpants and smile right in the middle of the whole thing.

"Wow, you guys have been busy," said Dick.

"Yeah. We did this for you. We wanted to show you that we're a family," explained Tim.

"We want you to come home," added Damien.

"What do you say, Dick? Come back to Wayne Manor?" asked Bruce.

"I'd love to," said Dick.

Tim cheered soundlessly. Bruce smiled. And Damien gave Dick a hug. "Don't get used to this, Grayson," he warned, "I'm just glad you're coming back."

Dick laughed. "Before we go, let's finish watching Pirates of the Caribbean here." They all either shrugged or nodded and crowed onto the couch or the floor in front of the TV.

* * *

 **Author's Note: Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed. Sorry if you've been waiting for this one. I'm not counting on that though. I think my storytelling can use a little work still. Anyhow, hope you liked it.**

 **Coming Up next: The Monster of Roger's Cabin:** The boys are cabin sitting for Tim's uncle Roger while he fights a conflicting property claim in court. Meanwhile, the opposition comes to the cabin to claim it in his absence. Dick devised a plan to scare them off the land for good.


	16. Story 16: The Monster of Roger's Cabin

**Story 16: The Monster of Roger's Cabin**

"Finally!" exclaimed Damien getting out of the car and stretching his legs. He turned and glared at his brother as Tim practically crawled out of the back seat. "Drake, you are a hopeless navigator without your precious GPS!"

"I am not!" Tim shot back indignantly.

"You said it would be a three-hour drive. Well, it was five after you got us lost when we entered the no reception zone."

"Hey, don't blame me. Dick was driving. I swear he had his foot on the break the whole time!"

Dick came around from the trunk of the car and stuffed the sleeping bags and gear in their faces as a hint for the younger two to shut up. They had been bickering most of the drive up to the cabin and he was fed up with them. Jason had been even more exasperated, which was why he had gotten out of the car and opted to walk the last three miles.

They walked up to the cabin. It was situated on Rockvam Lake and surrounded by thick pine trees. The gravely driveway led up to the cabin from the road. A little path ran behind the structure to the lake. A few kayaks were piled haphazardly beside the house near the hose. The next neighbors were a quarter mile down on the road.

Tim rang the doorbell and they waited. A moment later, a man with muscular shoulders in a hunting jacket opened the door. He was as big as Bruce and wore a smile as bright as Dick's. "Timmy!" he cried throwing his arms around his nephew.

"It's great to see you again Uncle Roger," said Tim hugging him back. "These are my adopted brothers. This is Dick and that's Damien. Watch out, he's a bit of a loose cannon."

"Welcome boys! And thanks for watching the place while I fight this claim in court. These people with the conflicting claim on my land are a real pain in my caboose!" said Uncle Roger.

"It's great to meet you. And we're happy to help out," said Dick extending his hand.

Uncle Roger reached past his hand and gave Dick a swift hug. "If you're Timmy's adopted brother, then you're my adopted nephew."

"How fortunate for us," grumbled Damien under his breath. Tim elbowed him in the ribs. "Pleased to make your acquaintance Mr. Drake," said Damien.

"The pleasure's mine," Uncle Roger smiled. "Now I'd better get going. Hopefully I'll get this claim business settled quickly. I've owned this land for 15 years and I'm not about to give it up now." He grabbed his backpack and paperwork before trotting down the driveway to his truck. He waved to the boys as he backed out as sped off towards Gotham.

The boys walked into the cabin. There were two bedrooms, a rustic looking living room, a small kitchen, and a single bathroom. But the thing that caught Dick's eye was the giant stuffed Moose Head hanging over the fireplace. The large glass eyes stared at him in a way that almost made his skin crawl. Not that he'd ever admit it of course. Damien was about to comment on the way Grayson seemed to be mesmerized by the moose, when the door opened and a very hot, very sweaty Jason Todd marched in.

"Next time, Tim and Damien are walking!" he announced.

However, the rest of the day went by pleasantly. They enjoyed playing in the lake with Uncle Roger's kayaks. Once Jason capsized Dick on purpose and got a kick out of the way his brother floundered into the lake. Unfortunately, the humor of the situations was lost when Dick didn't resurface after a reasonable amount of time. They were beginning to wonder if he had hit his head and drowned. Damien had been about to go in after him when Dick pushed Jason's kayak three feet out of the water from underneath. His head was covered in seaweed and he looked like something resembling the Lock Ness Monster. Jason's unmanly scream as he fell into the water had Tim, Dick, and even Damien in stitches.

But the fun and peace of the little cabin on Rockvam Lake was soon to be disturbed. The next morning started off as might be expected when a house with only one bathroom is being occupied by four brothers. Damien had been in the shower for a half hour and there were no signs that he was ever planning to come out again. (Equation by Tim Drake: factor, one shower + four dirty people who need to shower - one person in the shower = three dirty, unhappy people.) Jason wanted to break the door down but Tim reminded him that it was Uncle Roger's house. So, they waited. And waited. And waited.

Finally, Dick slapped his knee in decision. "Well, there's only one thing to do," he said pushing to his feet, "we put the top down on the Mustang and all go through the car wash."

"I'm not that filthy," said Tim.

"You sure about that?" asked Jason.

"Shut up."

It was then that the relative peace was disturbed. Three large men who looked like lumberjacks marched through the door the boys had carelessly left unlocked. Dick and Tim gawked at the brazen intrusion while Jason's fingers were itching for his gun. Damien finally walked out of the shower mumbling something about allowing his brothers to clean themselves up because they were insufferably filthy, when he too paused and stared at the men in the doorway.

"You boy's are on our property. This claim says so," said one. He held out a piece of paper but pulled it away before Tim could get a good look at it. You're all going to leave here right now."

More baffled than anything, Tim looked at his brothers for help. No way were they just going to up and leave, but then going into Batmode wasn't an option either. Jason looked like he didn't like being told what to do and was ready to show their intruders who was boss. Damien looked like he was going to kill all three on the spot. When he looked at Dick, he saw the cogs of his older brother's mind working. He could see some kind of plan forming written in his blue eyes. Tim relaxed a little. The best thing about having brothers is when you don't have a plan, they do.

"Get out," the man repeated slamming his fist into his hand. "Or we'll make you."

"Be my guest! If you can give us enough gas to get into town, we're out of here!" said Dick. He sounded terrified.

"Well, that's a good boy," said the burly man in the red flannel shirt. He put one of his huge hands on Dick's shoulder.

"I'm not afraid of you. There's something out there in the lake; like a monster." Dick shuddered.

The men laughed out right. "A monster eh? And you're all scared of it. Don't worry son; we'll take care of the 'monster'."

"We're not scared of anything!" Damien snapped.

The men laughed again. Jason's cheeks turned red and he glared at Dick in anger and embarrassment. "There's no…" he began but Dick stomped on his foot. Jason yelped at the unexpected impact Dick's boot made on his foot. "Mother F-" noticing the warning look on Dick's face, he finished, "father."

"My brother's right," said Tim catching on to Dick's plan like he always did, "we just want to get away from here as fast as possible."

"If you're trying to scare us, it won't work. There's no such thing as monsters, kids," said the mad in the green hunting jacket.

"Clearly you've never been to Gotham," said Jason.

"Ok, yeah we've seen the news. But com'on, who's gonna believe that that stuff lives around here?"

"We do," said Tim.

"City kids," muttered the first.

"We'll just grab our stuff get out of here," Dick promised. He gazed back at the wall behind him. "And will you help us get the moose head down? We have to bring it with us. Damien is very fond of it."

"I am not…" Damien began, but Dick stomped on his foot. "We don't need the…" stomp, "…moose muph…" Dick finally outright covered his mouth.

The men looked confused but agreed. Soon they had the moose head and all their gear in the car and here headed back down the road. As they drove away, everyone started peppering Dick with questions like bullets from automatic weapons.

"What the hell are you up?" to demanded Jason.

"We're going to scare them off the land by haunting the lake," said Dick calmly.

"But why do you need that blasted moose head?"

"I don't like the moose head. I am not attached to it. I want to leave it back in the cabin and let it stare away at those unrepeatably unbearable ruffians," said Damien.

"We need the moose," said Dick simply.

"Your schemes get worse all the time, Grayson." Damien folded his arms over his chest.

"But why do we need it?" Jason persisted.

"Damien's moose head gets the distinguished honor of being the Monster of Roger's Cabin," said Dick proudly.

They were about to ask more questions when Tim shouted, "ENOUGH!" Everyone shut up. "Unless someone has a better plan, we're going to haunt the lake. With the moose head." He couldn't believe that he was willing to go through with this. They were really pressed for ideas when they went along with one of Dick's crazy plans. _A moose head? Really?_ "God help us all!" he muttered looking up.

 **Later:**

They boys set up their monster making camp in the woods a little ways from the shore of Lake Rockvam. Using Burlap sacking, wood frames, paint, roman candles, gunk from the bottom of the lake, and of course the moose head, they began to build the monster that would scare away the men from Uncle Roger's cabin for good. Tim was building the frames. Damien was strapping down the sacking and painting. Dick was "decorating" the moose with algae and slime. And Jason got the unenviable task of swimming to the bottom of the lake and retrieving the filth they used to cover the monster.

"That was the last trip to slime city I am going to make," announced Jason and he walked back on to the beach with an armload of gunk.

"It looks perfect Jay," said Dick looking up from spreading paint and lake slime all over the moose's antlers. He stuffed the roman candles into its nose.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever," muttered Jason plopping down, "this plan of yours had better work or Red Hood is going in there to shoot them all and be done with it."

"It'll work," said Dick confidently. "And Jason?"

"Yeah?"

"There's a fish and seaweed in your hair."

"I'm not waiting to see if the plan works. I'm going to shoot you right now!"

Arguments aside, they finished the monster. It looked like a huge snake with the head of a moose covered in lake slime. One could almost describe it as a zombie moose-snake that was rising from it's watery grave. The moon was at her full and hanging high in the night sky. She dipped behind clouds and back again proving perfect cover for the monster. The sky itself was midnight blue. Not even a few stars could be seen as the boys stripped off their shirts and sneakers and dragged the monster off the beach and into the water. Dick light the candles in the moose's nose and the creature appeared to have come alive and was exhaling something toxic.

"Um Dick?" Tim began tentatively, "you're moose looks like it's either suffering from internal combustion, or like it's been smoking recently."

"Are you saying my moose looks like an addict?" demanded Dick indignantly.

Tim didn't answer. Jason let out a sharp bark of laughter at the idea but Dick covered his mouth. Without any more words, the boys got under their four person monster costume and swam it into the middle of the lake out by Roger's Cabin. Dick started making monster noises into a microphone in the moose's head.

On the beach by the cabin, the three men jumped at the un earthly sounds and collected their guns. When they saw the monster moose, they started shooting at it in panic. Fortunately, the boys had been under fire before and didn't freak out. They could hear the men screaming like fifth grade girls. It was hard to kept themselves from laughing as they heard the shouting:

"Damnit! Those kids were right!"

"Shoot it!"

"Are you even aiming?!"

"Of course, I'm aiming! I think the thing is bullet proof!"

"It's still coming this way!"

"Why does it look like a giant moose?"

"Who cares? Let's get out of here!"

And the men abandon the cabin.

 **The Next Day:**

The boys were back in the cabin congratulating themselves, when Uncle Roger returned.

"Hey boys! I'm back to stay," he announced, "they gave up their phony claim on my land. One of them said the lake is haunted. Wonder why they think that."

"Can't imagine Uncle Roger," said Tim getting up off the couch to hug his uncle.

"They said you boys saw it."

"Let's go kayaking," Dick suggested to change the subject. He, Jason, Time, and Damien all pick up and fled outside. Uncle Roger stared after them in confusion. He set his bags down and breathed in the sweet air of home. He let his gaze wander around his perfect cabin. That's when he looked up at the moose head. It was hanging in it's usual place on the cabin wall (the boys had put it back) but there was something off about it. Slime from the bottom of the lake was hanging off the antlers and there was algae on it's head. _Now where did that come from?_

Uncle Roger marched outside and called, "boys!"

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **I hope you enjoyed reading this short story. Thank you all for your support by reading these goofy stories. If you are so inclined, let me know what you think.**

 **Look for _The Boys in Blue_ : A new AU series of short stories, in which Jason decided to join Dick and become an officer with the Bludhaven Police department. Just a few stories about brothers working together as cops during the day and vigilantes during the night. _Coming soon._ **


	17. Story 17: Jessy Jason's Girl

**Story 17: Jessy; Jason's Girl**

"Dick!" shouted Jason's aggravated voice.

Upstairs in Damien's room, both Dick and Damien's eyes widened and their backs straightened in apprehension. What had Dick done to annoy his brother this time? As far as Dick knew, he had been unusually well behaved. Dick set _Oliver Twist_ on the bed between himself and Damien. He had one day off from both the BCPD and bailing Bruce out of his current blunder at Wayne Tech and Jason just had to ruin it.

Tim came from down the hall and stood in the doorway to Damien's room.

"You do not have permission to enter my quarters, Drake," Damien warned his brother. Apparently only Dick and Alfred had that particular privilege.

Tim rolled his eyes at Damien, but made no move to the room. Instead he addressed Dick; "what have you done now?" he wanted to know.

"If you filled Todd's helmet with whipped cream again, you have my approval; despite the childish nature of that prank," said Damien.

"I haven't done anything," said Dick innocently confused. Then he thought to add, "more than usual." The three boys remained silent contemplating the things that Dick could have possibly done to stir up Jason's wrath.

"Dick!" Jason screamed again, "HELP!"

Jason _never_ asked for his help. Dick bounded off the bed, flew past Tim, and front flipped over the banister in search of Jason. Was he hurt? Was he locked in the broom closet again? In this house, you never knew. Tim was right behind him, although he opted to take the stairs rather than risking one of Alfred's lectures by doing gymnastics in the house. For his part, Damien clicked his tongue but moved slowly to follow his brothers. He found Todd mildly entertaining when he was upset.

Dick skidded to a halt in front of the kitchen island, just short of faceplanting in the cherry pie Jason was snacking on for consolation. Unfortunately, Tim came running in behind him but couldn't pull off a sudden stop the way Dick had. He slammed into Dick's back spilling his coffee down his brother's back and splashing it over his head into the pie. Dick and Jason both glared at Tim who had the good sense to back up a pace.

"What's up Jayjay?" asked Dick shrugging out of his now coffee stained tee-shirt.

"I need your help," Jason ground out, "with a girl."

Dick blinked. "I beg your pardon."

Jason growled.

"It's the _girl_ talk," teased Tim. "Dick, don't forget to tell him about the birds and the bees."

"Grayson, while Drake was intolerable before, you are a bad influence on him," said Damien walking in.

Jason growled again. Louder this time. He reached over, grabbed Dick's wrist and yanked him into the den. He slammed and locked the door so that the younger boys couldn't hear what was going on. Dick stood frozen in the middle of the room.

"Jay, you're freaking me out here. What happened?" asked Dick.

"That girl, Jessy, you introduced me too…she's driving me crazy! She wants to spend all her time with me and she hid all my cigarettes and booze. She's determined to help me 'mend my bad boy ways'. She's a menace!" cried Jason making air quotations around mending his ways.

"Before you blame this on me, you asked me to set you up. You said, 'she's one hot babe'," Dick reminded him also using air quotations for effect.

"She _hid_ my cigarettes!"

"If you don't like her, why don't you get rid of her?" asked Dick a little confused.

"I _tried!_ But she keeps coming back like a boomerang," whined Jason.

"So...? Where do I come in?"

"You will help me get rid of her, or I'll shoot both of you in the ass!"

Dick really hoped he was joking. That would be an interesting thing to have to explain to Alfred. _Hey Alfie, a little help here? Jason just shot me in in the butt over some girl!_ Not a conversation he wanted to have. Deciding to focus on the problem at hand, Dick rephrased Jason's demand. "So, I have to help you get rid of an annoying girlfriend to literally save my ass?"

"Finally, something went into the pretty head of yours and stuck."

"Hey, you want my help? You have to be nice to me," Dick shot back.

"Fine. Anything to get rid of Jessy."

Dick rubbed his hands together gleefully. It wasn't often people asked for his help sabotaging relationships. A mischievous grin spread over his face. Seeing it made Jason relax. He made the right call involving Dick. Usually, he would be able to handle a situation like this on his own, but Jessy was tenacious and nothing he did seemed to work.

"Let Operation Save Jason's Integrity, begin!" declared Dick.

"I take it you have a battle plan."

"Don't I always?"

Suddenly, the door broke open. Damien had picked the lock and he and Tim spilled on the floor of the den. They spoke at the same time.

"Drake told me to!" Damien declared.

"It's demon-brat's fault!" "Tim defended himself.

"No it's not!" they shouted in unison, "it was you!"

"You guys heard everything, didn't you- you little sneaks!" Jason snapped at them.

Ever the peacemaker, Dick stepped between his brothers. "Jay, we'll need their help. My plan is going to be a group effort."

"Fine," groaned Jason reluctantly. He really hoped this didn't turn into some brotherly bonding thing. He couldn't take it if they were bonding over his failed love-life. Fortunately, Dick seemed pretty focused on the problem at hand. Maybe for once his threat of violence had been heeded by the former Boy Wonder.

"Help Todd?" demanded Damien, "I'd rather face a katana duel with my grandfather!"

"Don't think of it as helping Jay. Think of it as license to wreck someone's dreams for the future," said Dick. (Yeah, he knew how to play Damien if he wanted to).

"Fine. I shall aid you in this endeavor to sabotage Todd's relationship with the female; however, rest assured, I would much rather watch him suffer under her idiocy." Three different reactions met Damien's statement; all of which he found satisfactory: Jason growled, Dick rolled his eyes, and Tim gave him a look that said _how are you such a little ass_?

 **Later:**

Dick's plan was rather simple in nature. Jason would pretend to be irredeemably drunk and prove to Jessy once and for all that he could not possibly mend his ways. Maybe Jason couldn't convince Jessy of as much on his own, but with his brothers' help, it should be a cinch. This, Dick figured, wasn't too far to the truth. And if you have to tell a lie, it's best to go with a near truth than an all-out falsehood because it is more easily believed.

Jason was currently dressed like a disheveled bum sitting on the living-room couch. The boys had grabbed all the empty scotch and beer bottles out of the recycling bins around the manor and the nearest cooperative neighborhood. Their booty was scattered around the room, or piled on the kitchen counter. Nobody, not even Flash, would or could drink that much, so the plan was to say the bottles had been accumulated over several days.

The walkie-talkie in Dick's pocket vibrated. "Damien to Grayson. Over."

"We read you Dami. Over."

"Target in sight and moving purposefully towards the manor. Over."

"Good work Damien. Over."

"Tell Drake to get moving. The other infidel is at the door. Over."

"You can talk to Tim directly. He has a walkie-talkie too. Over."

"I'd rather not. Out."

Dick sighed. Turning to Jason, he informed his brother that Jessy was on her way up to the manor right this very second. While Jason was freaking out, he called Tim.

"Jessy is here. You have a green light. Over," said Dick.

"Just remind me how I got this assignment again. Over." Tim demanded.

"It's payback for spilling scalding hot coffee down my back this morning. Over." answered Dick.

"You didn't even flinch! Over."

"That's entirely beside the point. That was one of my favorite shirts. Over."

"You have the worst priorities sometimes. Out."

"Out."

Dick hastily shoved the walkie-talkie out of sight as the doorbell rang. Alfred opened the door for Jessy and she sauntered in. The old man knew quite well what was going on, but had decided not to get involved in any way. He had learned over the years to pick his battles; and this one just wasn't worth it. Jessy passed him asking where she could find Jason. A loud crash seemed to answer the question for her and she raced into the living room.

When Jessy arrived in the living-room, she saw Jason sprawled out on the couch. From the broken vase on the floor and the cushion beside it, she deduced that Jason had launched the pillow at his older brother. She gawked at the number of beer bottles lying around. She obviously had her work cut out for her if she wanted to get Jason to change.

"Jason!" she shouted in shocked horror.

Jason laughed internally; her reaction to his appearance was perfect. "Jessy! My love!" he cried. He made a show of having a hard time getting up and staggering over to her. He wrapped her in a huge hug and kissed her hard. Jessy flailed her arms to be freed.

"That's enough Jay," said Dick coming to her rescue, "let Jessy go and sit down."

Jason shoved Dick away from them. "Get away from us you sober drag! Go find your own girl."

"Sit down Jason Todd! Now!" shouted Dick. He had to stop himself from laughing at his brother's acting as Jason glared at him before tripping his way back to the couch.

"Have a drink Jess," ordered Jason picking up a half empty bottle of beer from the coffee table beside the couch.

"I think you've had enough to drink, Jason," Jessy snapped angrily. (She missed the wink Dick and Jason exchanged).

"Todd! I insist you stop this drunken hooliganism right this instant!" shouted Damien walking into the room, "you are a disgrace to the House of Wayne!"

"Good," slurred Jason, "you're all a bunch of idiots anyways."

Damien turned red. Dick didn't know if he was acting or not. Before he could decide, Tim walked into the room with a tall cup of coffee in his hand.

Sighing, he addressed Dick. "I've got the black coffee. Let's see if we can sober him up again."

"I don't want coffee. I want beer," declared Jason stubbornly.

"You're drunk enough. We can't go out to the movie like I wanted with you in this condition," said Jessy half angrily haughty, half sadly.

Jason looked up at her with wide eyes. "Jessy? When did you get here?"

Jessy sniffed and planted her hands on her hips. She didn't like being forgotten. Perfect.

Tim walked around the couch and handed the coffee to Dick who sat down beside Jason. Dick held the coffee to his brother's lips but Jason had his own plan in mind. Having never set aside the partially full bottle of beer, Jason attempted to poor the remaining contents into the coffee. Dick grabbed his wrist and stopped him before Jason could contaminate the coffee.

"Dink the coffee," Dick ordered.

Jason scowled. "This is why you people are stupid; you drink coffee, I drink beer!"

"Oh for the love of…" Dick began.

But he was interrupted by Jason who seemed to have noticed Tim for the first time. "Rachel!" he cried. Dick almost lost his composure as Jason grabbed Tim that way he had grabbed Jessy earlier. The pained _and here it comes expression_ on Tim's face was perfect. That would teach him not to spill coffee on Dick's shirts!

"Rachel my darling!" Jason cried again.

"I'm not Rachel," Tim tried but it was a pointless effort. Jason swung him into a dip and kissed Tim like he had Jessy (almost). Jason pressed a kiss onto Tim's nose rather than his lips. Neither one could stomach kissing a brother like that. But the effect on Jessy was exactly what they had been going for.

"Rachel!" Jessy screamed. "Who's Rachel?!"

"Not him," said Dick pointing to Tim. "Jason's hallucinating or something. Don't blame Tim."

"Tsk, tsk. Todd is disgraceful," said Damien with his arms folded over his chest. He almost felt bad for Drake. Almost.

Tim's arms flailed frantically. He was desperately trying to escape but Jason just held onto "Rachel". Dick started yelling at Jason to release Tim, but their drunk actually-not-so-drunk brother just held on. Finally, Damien launched a pillow at the back of Jason's head.

Releasing Tim, Jason turned fiercely on Damien. "Never do that again demon-brat!" he snapped, "couldn't you see? Rachel and I were having a moment!"

"A moment!" cried Jessy indignantly.

"Yes!" Jason shouted angrily. He turned to Jessy again and his mood changed on a dime. "Jessy, my one true love!"

"Your _one_ love?" she scoffed, "what about Rachel over there?" She pointed at poor Tim.

Jason just looked bewildered. "Rachel? Where?" He scanned the room.

"What do you mean Rachel where? That's it I'm out of here! Good bye Jason. I thought I could change you, but I was wrong! I won't waste any more of my time!" Jessy declared as she headed for the door.

Jason could hardly hold his smile in check as she began to leave, but he did. "Scarlet, wait! Come back!" he called sounding desperate.

Jessy sniffed and left the house.

As soon as she was gone, the boys cheered in victory. Jason grabbed Dick in a crushing hug. He wouldn't say _thank you_ or anything like that, but Dick liked hugs, right? That was enough. He was rid of Jessy for good.

"Do you think that was mean?" asked Dick sobering up a little. "I mean, I hope we didn't hurt her with that masquerade."

Jason rolled his eyes. _Of course Dick would think like that._ The guy was a perfect gentleman even if he was a conniving goofball/prankster. "Nah. You saved her ass. I was going to shoot her if she didn't' leave, remember?"

"You were joke though. Right?"

The look Jason gave him was answer enough. The color seamed to drain from Dick's face, before Jason burst out laughing again. "Of course I wasn't going to shoot her, but…" he trailed off as they heard Alfred answer the doorbell. It couldn't be Bruce. Bruce had a key. That probably meant…

"Jessy's back!" cried Jason in a panic. "Tim get over here!"

"No!" Tim shouted frantically. He ducked behind Dick for cover.

Desperate to keep up the appearances, Jason reached for Dick instead. He pulled his strongly protesting older brother into the same predicament that Tim had been in earlier. And as for Tim, well he thought it was great the Dick should have to suffer as he had. Watching it from the outside was way more fun.

.

When Bruce Wayne got home from work, he realized that he had misplace his key. No matter. Alfred would answer the door. As soon as he set foot in the house, he heard Tim and Damien shouting at Jason from the living room:

Tim: "Let him go moron!"

Damien: "You are disgraceful Todd!"

Tim: "Dick isn't Scarlet! Are you even listening to me? You shouldn't do that to your brother!"

Damien: "Tsk, tsk. He can't hear you through all the liquor, Drake. That in itself may be the reason he took to drinking in the first place."

Bruce began to make his way to the living-room post haste. He kicked an empty beer bottle lying discarded on the floor. _Oh no_. From what he had heard, it sounded like Jason was drunk and somehow hurting Dick in his inebriation. Fearing the worst, Bruce barged into the room. And stopped short. He hadn't been expecting to see Jason kissing Dick (who didn't seem to be enjoying it at all) and Tim and Damien demanding he come to his senses.

"What in Gotham is going on here?" Bruce demanded sternly.

"Bruce?" asked Tim with wide staring eyes.

"Todd, it's father," whispered Damien.

Jason promptly dropped Dick on the floor without remorse and straightened. He was red in the face. "I can explain that," he said quickly.

Dick sat up. "It's a real doozy, Bruce."

"Well, I'd love to hear it," said Bruce folding his arms over his chest.

Upon hearing their story, Bruce just rolled his eyes. He'd done crazier things to get rid of girls who were more into him than he was into them. In fact, he thought the whole scheme was rather ingenious. Simple and ridiculous, but ingenious. He kind of wished he had been there to see it all. They were without a doubt the craziest, most outrageous, lovable kids he could have ever asked for. And if he ever needed help with his own dating issues, he was confident they'd volunteer.


	18. Story 18: It's a Date

**Being Driven Batty**

 **Story 18: It's a Date**

"This is one of those times I just want to punch Bruce in the face," growled Dick as he flopped down on the couch next to Jason.

"Yeah, I know the feeling," Jason agreed. He scanned the room for Alfred before kicking his combat boots up onto the coffee table in front of him. He wondered briefly if Dick would turn him in.

The butler heard the dull thud and shouted at him from the stairway. "Take your filthy feet off my clean coffee table Master Jason or I'll have you scrubbing the base boards!"

 _Shit!_ Though Jason. He would swear to his dying day that Alfred was a meta human. Removing his feet from the coffee table, Jason turned to Dick. "What has the Old Man done this time?"

"He ordered me to quit the force and go back to school. We got into a fight again. I just…he keeps trying to control me," complained Dick.

Jason rolled his eyes. Sometimes he thought Dick was the perfect child; always doing whatever Bruce told him too, always kind, always loyal no matter the consequences. But then there were times when he was reminded that he and his older brother actually had a lot in common. Including fighting with dad over their choice of lifestyle.

Finally gracing Dick with a moment of eye contact, Jason said, "yeah, he's been trying to get me to go back to school too. And he's _always_ ordering me to shape up."

"Do you want to go? Back to school I mean."

"No. Sort of. Yes," answered Jason. "I would if he didn't _order_ me to. You?"

"Yeah, same. It's just the way Bruce doesn't ask. He tells me what I should do. Then he tries to choose the school and how everything is going to work out," said Dick, "I've been on my own for a while. I started the Teen Titans when I was just a kid. I don't need someone to run my life for me."

"For once, we agree on something Golden Boy," said Jason. "I don't need a fuckin' bat to run my life either."

"What if we decided to run his life for a change," Dick suggested. He leaned over towards Jason conspiratorially. "We can pull a few strings and run him into doing something he really doesn't want to do."

"I'm starting to like the way your mind thinks, Dicky-boy," said Jason. "Got something in mind?"

"As a matter of fact, I do." Dick got up off the couch and dragged Jason into the garage where Alfred couldn't overhear them. "Who would Bruce least like to have dinner with?"

"That's an open question," complained Jason, "Bruce hates almost everyone."

"Agreed. But I was thinking our favorite boy scout in blue."

"You want to manipulate Bruce into having dinner with Superman?!" cried Jason.

Dick hurried to clamp a hand over his brother's mouth. "Not so loud!" he hissed. Dick let Jason break free of his gag hold as he continued. "Yes. We're going to teach him that he can't run our lives either from behind the scenes in a bat costume or with blatant orders in civilian clothes."

"What's the plan?" asked Jason.

"We're going to trick Bruce into meeting up with Clark for a date," declared Dick.

"Are you nuts?! The boy-scout will never go along with that!"

"He doesn't need to know," said Dick slyly. "All we need is a little help."

 **The Next Day (September 3): Gotham City:**

Alfred brought the mail in and set on the desk in front of Bruce. Bruce sifted through his mail rather absent mindedly as usual; until a lavender envelope caught his eye. As he brought it up to his face for inspection, the subtle perfume filled his nose. Celina Kyle. What was she up to? He sometimes had his doubts about telling her his secret identity, but she'd been trust worthy so far. And right now, he wasn't regretting it at all.

Bruce opened the letter. He instantly recognized Celina's delicate handwriting. He read:

 _My dear Bruce,_

 _It has been entirely too long since the last time you held my hand under the starlight. Or we walked together in the cool of the night. I miss your lips against mine in that passionate embrace. Please join me for dinner tonight at 7:30 at the Ristorante Lombardo. I have reserved table 7 for us already. The reservation is under the name Loveit. See you soon handsome._

 _With love, Celina_

Celina was a wily woman to say the least. Bruce read the letter again and again. Then he rose from his seat and put the letter in his pocket. He had planned to stay in tonight, but what the heck? He was going to live a little. He walked upstairs and put on his suit, grabbed his wallet, and a corsage from a bottom drawer (he often had dinner dates and keeping piles of gifts for women saved him time getting ready).

As he walked out of his room, he passed Damien in the hall. His youngest son was holding his English textbook and a notepad. A frustrated scowl was plastered on his young face. Damien looked up at him. "Where are you going, father? You informed myself and Grayson that you were planning to stay in tonight. You also agreed that since you would be here, you could assist me with my infuriating homework my imbecilic teacher insisted I do."

"Sorry Damien. Something came up. Ask Dick to help you with your homework," said Bruce.

Damien folded his arms over his chest. "Grayson has plans."

"Then ask Alfred."

"Pennyworth is busy with Todd."

"Then as Tim."

"I will not accept advice from Drake!" Damien stormed off.

Bruce starred at Damien's back as the boy marched down the hall back to his room. He wasn't sure he'd ever figure that kid out. He supposed he could ask Dick, but it felt a little odd to be asking his son, who was not a father, for parenting advice. However, he put those thoughts aside and headed towards the door for his date. As soon as he was gone, Dick and Jason exchanged look before dashing to the garage and mounting their motorcycles.

 **September 3: Metropolis:**

When Clark Kent got home from work, he dropped his briefcase on the floor, took off his glasses, and picked up his laptop. He sat down on the couch to read his emails. There were four from the Daily Planet, one from his parents, several about rent, water, heating, electricity, the phone, the giant hole in the side of the building that an alien crashed through, and one from Lois Lane. Deciding that the bills and other notifications could wait, he opened the email from Lois and read:

 _Dear Clark,_

 _I'm in Gotham city for some investigative work on you know who. Gotham is so alive at night and so beautiful, but I feel so alone without you. Please feel free to do your thing and come keep me company in Gotham tonight. Meet me at the Ristorante Lombardo at 7:30. I've reserved table seven. It's under the name, Loveit._

 _Love, Lois Lane_

Clark looked at his watch. Yeah, he could make it. He'd just fly _really_ fast. He got ready with superspeed timing (literally). Stuffing his suit in a bag, he put on his Superman costume and jumped into action. _Gotham here I come!_ _I just better not bump into Bruce or I'm dead_.

 **September 3: Gotham City**

"I can't believe I came all the way to Gotham City for a prank!" exclaimed Lois as she walked into the Ristorante Lombardo in disguise.

"You do realize we're taking on The Bat and the Man of Steel, right?" asked Celina.

"Are you implying we're not up to it?" Jason challenged her.

"Not at all," said Celina pulling out her camera, "I could use a little black mail material on Bruce. After all, I don't have the most civic minded occupation."

"You can say that again," muttered Lois. Celina poked her tongue out at the other woman.

"Be nice girls," Dick put in, "our love pigeons will be here any second."

"We're lucky Clark has a sense of humor," said Lois as she seated herself at the corner table with Dick, Jason, and Lois to watch their prank unfold. She tugged her blond wig into place and wrapped her feathery scarf closer to her face.

"Bruce doesn't have a sense of humor," Celina complained, "I'm pretty sure Dick tried to get him one for Christmas, but Bruce just sent it back with the tags still on." Lois laughed.

"Alas, it's sad but true," said Dick taking his seat across from Lois. He tugged at his red wig a little. It would never do for Bruce or Clark to recognize them before the climax of their prank had unfolded.

"Shush," hissed Jason, "here comes Bruce."

Bruce Wayne walked into the Ristorante Lombardo and explained that he had a reservation for table 7 under the name Loveit. The waiter showed him the to table. He had been expecting to see Celina waiting for him, so he was surprised when no one was there. Well, no matter. He was five minutes early. He set the corsage on the table and decided to risk going to the restroom quickly.

Clark Kent was pretty proud of himself for flying all the way to Gotham for a date in under ten minutes. He was even changed and had managed to pick up a Batman teddy bear for Lois. He thought they'd get a good laugh out of it (unless Bruce found out, but he wasn't going to. Was he?) Clark explained that he had a reservation for table seven and the waiter showed him to the table. He thought it was a little odd that Lois wasn't waiting for him.

Looking down at the table, he saw a corsage of violet roses and baby's breath. So, Lois was here. But where? She was probably in the restroom. Clark put the teddy bear on the table and picked up the corsage. He pinned one of the roses into his suit jacket and went to look for Lois.

Meanwhile, Bruce got back to the table. He instantly noticed that the corsage was gone and in its place, was a Batman teddy bear. Cute. Not. Celina had taken to teasing him with a hint of Dick Grayson inspired humor. He rolled his eyes. Where was she now? Had she gone looking for him? Should he go looking for her? After waiting for a few minutes, he decided to be proactive and find her.

Clark was getting a little frustrated. Where was Lois? Perhaps he missed her and she was back at the table. Deciding to head back to table 7 himself, he spotted another man at his table, or rather leaving his table. Had he done something to Lois? Clark's vision clouded and he marched up to the other man. Taking the guy by the shoulder, Clark spun him around harshly only to find himself staring at none other than Bruce Wayne, The Bat, himself. Clark stood petrified for a moment.

"You!" he choked.

"You!" Bruce growled, "what are you doing in my city?"

"I have a date," said Clark going on the defensive immediately. He noticed Bruce holding the Batman teddy bear. _Oh crap._ Clark swallowed.

"With Celina Kyle?" Bruce challenged.

"No, with Lois Lane," said Clark in confusion.

"Then why are you the corsage I got for Celina?"

"I thought it was Lois's. It was at our table."

"Which table would that be?" Bruce growled. His voice was starting to sound like thunder.

Clark pointed. "This table. Table seven. Lois said she reserved table seven."

"Celina reserved table seven," snapped Bruce.

Clark grabbed the teddy bear from Bruce. "That's not possible. Lois said she reserved table 7 under the name Loveit for _us_."

And then everything clicked inside Bruce's head. He let out another thunderous growl. "We've been duped."

"Say what now!" demanded Clark.

"Somehow the girls got together and tricked us into meeting each other for a dinner date."

"You're my date!" cried Clark appalled as the truth finally hit him.

"No!" Bruce practically screamed, "I'm not your date! And give me that!" Bruce took his corsage back.

"Thank goodness for that!" Clark retorted, "I wouldn't consider you a date if you were the last person on earth!"

It was only then that Bruce and Clark noticed that everyone in the restaurant was starring at them. Their faces turned bright red. As Bruce and Clark moved to exit the restaurant, Summer Gleason snapped their picture and all of the occupants of the Ristorante Lombardo applauded the act. As soon as they were out in the parking lot, to settle things like men, they were approached by two boys and two women; all laughing and wearing strange clothes.

One of the woman took off her blond hair and transformed into Lois Lane. The redheaded boy became Dick Grayson. The old woman became Celina Kyle. And the white-haired boy became Jason Todd.

"You all orchestrated this?" demanded Bruce fuming.

Celina wrapped her arm around his in that singularly seductive way of hers. "Don't be too mad Bruce. The boys were only trying to teach you something. Where's you sense of humor?"

"Back at the joke store with the rest of the nonsense," answered Bruce.

"Sheesh," said Clark rolling his eyes. He already had one arm around Lois and was starting to see the humor of the situation.

"Dick, this has your fingerprints all over it," Bruce accused.

"Just call me the Michael Angelo," said Dick with a grin.

"Hey, don't forget me Old Man," Jason piped in, "I had a big role to play too you know."

Bruce growled. "When we get home, you two are in so much trouble…"

"Chillax, Bruce," said Dick, "we were just trying to help you understand what it feels like to us when you try to run or manipulate our lives."

"We'll discuss this later."

 **Later: Wayne Manor**

Damien stepped aside from the doorframe as Dick and Jason walked out of Bruce's study. They looked like they had been chastised for something. Knowing those two, it could be anything. Neither one looked repentant; Damien wasn't in the least bit surprised. As soon as they were out of the way, he approached his father with his cursed English homework.

"Father, what business did you have with Grayson and Todd? I can only assume you caught them in another act of idiocy," said Damien.

"Dick and Jason are going back to school. Dick's leaving the police force in Bludhaven (he muttered the word "temporarily" under his breath) and going to college here in Gotham with Jason," answered Bruce.

Damien raised an eyebrow. "Does that mean Grayson will be here at home more often? And will Nightwing come on more patrols now?" He tried to keep the hope out of his voice, but it slipped through anyways.

"Yes."

Damien decided to change the subject before it got mushy. He still didn't want people to know that he actually liked having his brothers around. He'd already slipped up a few times before. "So, was your date successful, father?"

Bruce nearly choked on his sip of tea. "From a certain point of view," he answered. Then both their heads turned towards the door of the study as they heard Alfred, Tim, Jason, and Dick burst into a fit of laughter. It sounded like someone was rolling around on the floor in hysterics and someone else was pounding their fist on the wall. Damien seemed to have caught on. _From a certain point of view indeed_.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **Thanks so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed. Thank you all for your support, you helped me push through my writer's block and get another story done. I hope it was worth the wait. Sorry for the delay. As always, your thoughts are appreciated. Thank you all.**


	19. Story 19: Dick's Bedtime Story

**Being Driven Batty**

 **Story 19:** ** _Dick's Bedtime Story_**

Damien tensed when he heard the knock at his door. His heart skipped a beat and he quickly hid the stuffed kitty he had been holding under the covers. The knock didn't have enough authority behind it to be his father. It wasn't angry enough to be Drake. The person was to patient to be Todd. But not gentle enough to be Pennyworth. That left…

"What do you want Grayson?" he snapped irritably.

"Well if you don't want company while you're sick, I'll see you tomorrow," said Dick from behind the closed door.

Damien couldn't tell if his brother was just being placating or if he was hurt by Damien's tone of voice or if Grayson was baiting him. He heard Dick's footsteps retreating down the hall _. So,_ Damien mused, _Grayson was serious about leaving me alone after all. He_ settled himself down into his bed again. It lasted for all of about five minutes before Damien heaved a sigh and grabbed his phone off the nightstand. He had been secretly hoping his older brother would try to come in again. But he didn't. Grayson was impossible sometimes. Damien started texting Grayson:

 **Damien:** Grayson, I will permit you to come back to my room if you have something you would like to discuss with me

 **Grayson:** don't worry little D, I understand if you're too sick for company

 **Damien:** I am _never_ TOO SICK! I could be out on patrol RIGHT NOW!

 **Grayson:** whoa! Chillax Damien

 **Grayson:** Go back to bed demon spawn!

 **Damien:** how dare you Grayson!

 **Grayson:** It wasn't me! Honest! Jason grabbed my phone D=

 **Damien:** oh…Todd, when father permits me to leave my room, I'll cut you into so many pieces even doctor Frankenstein won't be about to put you back together! And Grayson…I require your presence _, immediately_

 **Grayson:** …ok…on my way

Damien put his phone back on the nightstand and waited for Dick to show up. He didn't have to wait long before he heard the familiar knock at the door. He felt relief wash over him unexpectedly. Though he hated to admit it, sometimes he just wanted to hang out with _his_ Batman.

"Come in already Grayson!" he shouted.

Dick opened the door and stepped into the room. Even though it was obvious that Dick had just showered, he still smelled like smoke. His wet hair had been pushed out of his eyes but some of it stubbornly clung to his forehead. Damien could see bandages around Dick's chest under his gray Gotham Knights tee-shirt.

"So, you went on patrol without me. How inconsiderate," Damien deadpanned. He was sitting up in bed with his arms folded over his chest.

Dick looked uncomfortable under Damien's scrutiny. "You have a really bad case of the flue Dami," he said stepping closer to the bed, "but don't worry, there's never a dull night in Gotham. You'll have your fill of dangerous nightwork soon enough."

"Tt, Grayson," said Damien dismissively, "come over here. You will debrief me on what I missed."

Dick walked over to the bed and sat down beside Damien. "Just a case of arson at Gotham Palace. Nothing too big. We got everyone out."

"You're all idiots," said Damien contemptuously while lifting Dick's shirt to get a better look at the bandages, "Tt, anything that would leave a mark like that through Kevlar had to have been hot and heavy. Did a burning anvil fall on you like in those deplorable Looney Tunes cartoons you made me watch?"

"Hey!" cried Dick indignantly, "how have you been enjoying your bedrest?"

Damien scowled. He decided that a subject change was in order. "What did you want with me earlier, Grayson?" he demanded. He was feeling sick enough that he wouldn't mind it if Dick just wanted to watch a movie and keep him company.

Dick's face brightened. "I was going to tell you a bedtime story. My dad used to tell me stories when I was sick, and I thought it would fun to tell one to you."

Damien winced. Like he was going to let Dick of all people just prattle on and tell a useless made-up story. But then again, Damien's throat hurt too much to keep talking himself. "Your sentiment goes unappreciated for the record; however, I will indulge you this once and allow you to tell your story."

"I'll take that as Damien-speak for 'I can't let you know that I want you to tell me a story, so I'll go around it by being rude'," said Dick with a laugh.

"Just begin," Damien growled. He hated it when Dick called him out on things. Apparently, his annoying older brother had learned to read him like an open book. Sometimes he wondered if Dick was telepathic.

" _Once upon a time_ ," Dick began.

"I can't believe this!" whined Damien.

"You asked for it. Now, shut-up and pay attention. _Once upon a time, there was an adventurer who stumbled upon a cave in the middle of a vast desert._ "

"What was the idiot doing alone in the desert?"

"Quiet. _When he stumbled into the cavern, he came across a little stream cracked into the rock. Dizzy with thirst, the man stooped to drink from the spring. When he looked up, he saw a transparent figure clad in ancient armor._

 _'_ _Who are you?' the man asked._

' _My name was Anut,' replied the figure, 'I used to be an adventurer like you once, in a lifetime long ago. But alas, I died as a result of what should have been my greatest feat!"_

"They're both idiots!" Damien interrupted indignantly.

Dick rolled his eyes but continued. _"'Tell me the story," begged the man._

 _Anut bowed his head, 'I should have been immortal. But things didn't go as planned."_

"Obviously not because he is dead! Imbecilic."

" _Anut continued, 'I and my friends came across a recipe for immortality. The ingredients were very hard to procure. I climbed a great mountain for the snow on the very top. I wrestled a crocodile for his tooth. I faced a heard of angry yacks for their milk. I faced an even more dangerous woman for her perfume. But the last ingredient was the hardest to come by; I needed the blood of the Pharaoh._ "

" _To acquire this last ingredient, I offered to serve the Pharaoh so that I could gain his trust until I had the chance to steal some of his blood. He agreed that I should serve him and soon appointed me as his personal body guard. In such a position, I could easily get a sample of his blood."_

 _"_ _I devised a fencing match between myself and the Pharaoh. We crossed blades under the hot sun. Round and round the courtyard we circled. He trying to hold out against my offensive attack and I trying to nick his shoulder to draw a little blood. Finally, I succeeded. But unfortunately, it was not enough to finish the Potion of Immortality. I needed more_."

At that moment, Tim popped his head through Damien's bedroom door. "Dick, what _are_ you talking about?"

"Go away Drake," shouted Damien, "you're interrupting the story."

"Hey Timmy," said Dick brightly, "I'm telling Damien the story about Anut, the Pharaoh, and the Potion of Immortality."

Uninvited or not, Tim walked into the room and set his coffee on the desk. "Oh great! I love that story." He jumped on the bed on the other side of Dick and settled down to listen.

Before Damien could object, Dick continued the story. " _I knew the Pharaoh needed to do something stupid so that he would get hurt and I could collect more blood."_

"I forgot how disturbing this story was," laughed Tim.

"Shut up Drake."

"Tim, what are you doing with Goldie and Demon Brat?" asked Jason suddenly stepping into the room. (Damien was starting to think he should have locked the door).

"Dick's telling the story of Anut and the Pharaoh," explained Tim.

Jason seemed to think about something for a moment, before he said, "move over, Replacement." Tim and Dick barely had time to get out of the way before Jason took a running start and belly flopped onto the bed. Damien let out a squeal of protest, but his voice was barely audible from the flue. "Get on with the story Dicky-boy," said Jason resting his chin in his hands.

Dick smiled and began again. " _I knew the Pharaoh needed to do something stupid so that he would get hurt and I could collect more blood. So, this time I suggested that he go tubing on the Nile."_

"How could he go tubing in ancient Egypt? They didn't have speed boats," Damien pointed out.

"They made the slaves row really fast," Dick explained. Jason and Tim burst out laughing. After nearly getting burned alive on patrol earlier that night, Dick's story was the best thing for them.

"This is ridiculous!" Damien grumbled _._

 _"_ Anyways..." said Dick, _"we got the slaves together and tied the innertube to the back of the boat. I sat in the prow and shouted to the slaves to row as fast as they could. I heard a lot of complaining, but I needed that Pharaoh blood. I had to tell them to watch out for river traffic sometimes. If it hadn't been the Pharaoh's boat that was moving so fast, I'm sure the officials would have ticketed us for speeding."_

 _"_ _When I saw an alligator ahead, I told the slaves to row towards it. And just as I planned, it bit the Pharaoh in his gluteus maximus. Finally, I had more blood. But it still wasn't enough to finish the potion."_

 _"_ _I was fed up with conniving to get Pharaoh blood, so I killed him. I had all the blood I needed. And then the potion was complete. Except now, all of Egypt was after me. My friends agreed that I should be the first to drink the potion and thus the first to become immortal, because I was the only one being hunted. So I drank from the potion."_

 _"_ _And…that is how I died,' Anut told the man, 'we misread the potion's label. It's wasn't the Potion of Immortality at all. It was the Potion of Mortality. And that is how my greatest feat led to my death."_

 _"_ _The man stared at Anut with wonder. 'Oh the irony! You died for immortality!"_

 _"_ _Yes,' said Anut, 'I used to be an adventurer until I took a Pharaoh to the sea.'_ The end." Dick finished the story.

Tim and Jason were laughing, and Damien was rolling his eyes. "Grayson, you really are ridiculous!"

"Thanks, Dami!" Dick grinned. He looked up and Bruce and Alfred who were standing in the doorway shaking their heads.

"It's time to let Damien rest," Bruce pronounced, "and the rest of you should get some sleep too." Tim and Jason left the room to go about their business. But as Dick got up to leave, Damien grabbed his arm.

"Yes, Damien?" asked Dick.

"Come back and tell me another story tomorrow."

"As you wish," said Dick and he left the room.

* * *

 **Author's Note: Sorry I haven't updated in forever. I've been really busy with school. I hope you were able to follow Dick's story with all the interruptions from the other boys. It's really hard to tell a story within a story within a story. Thank you all for reading and I hope you laughed.**


	20. Story 20: Dear Santa and Other Nonsense

**Being Driven Bats: Story 20**

 **Dear Santa and Other Nonsense**

"Christmas is just fucking weird," Jason commented as he pressed the cookie cutter into the ginger bread dough, "I mean, name one other time of year we freeze our asses off looking for a tree and eat candy out of our socks."

"If you're trying to ruin my childhood Jason, it won't work," said Dick offhandedly as he transferred yet another gingerbread man onto the cookie sheet.

Jason smirked at his brother. "Think we should all write to Santa while the cookies are in the oven?"

"Yes!" answered Dick enthusiastically. He made an attempt to wipe the dough off his face but only succeeded in smearing flour across his forehead. The contrast with his raven hair was comical; almost as comical as the superman apron he had smuggled into the house and given Alfred as a birthday present.

Finally looking up from his IPad, Tim quirked an eyebrow at the two of them. "Ok, first: when is it ever a good idea to let Dick in the kitchen, and two: aren't you a little old to be writing to Santa?"

"Never too old Timmy!" declared Dick.

"I'm supervising him. What harm can he do under my eagle eyes?" said Jason in response to Tim's objection to letting Dick cook. "Here brat," he added shoving paper and pencil under Tim's nose.

"What is this for?" Tim demaned eyeing the paper.

"Write a letter to Santa dim-wit!" answered Jason. Tim groaned but picked up the pencil. Looking up at his brothers, he sighed. They were still such children.

Twirling the pen through his fingers, Jason asked no-one in particular, "do you think I'm on the Naughty List?" His lips edging towards a smirk.

Dick laughed. "You hold the record."

"Point one, Jason Todd!"

"Aright, but if Christmas is cancelled this year, I'm blaming you."

"Why?"

"Because Santa is going to die laughing when he finds out you sent him a letter."

Jason just growled and began to write: _Dear Santa, I've been relatively good this year. Well, more than usual. Well, last week or so…let's just focus on that. Anyways, all I want for Christmas is a tall brunette (5"6' at the shortest). Curves in all the right places. A dark sense of humor. Talkative, but not overly so. Lit, but quiet. Sassy but sweet. Eye color is optional, but preferably not Dick-Grayson-blue (I couldn't handle his eyes on my girl, yuck!). If you don't come through, I'll book a plane ticket to the North Pole and you'll see why everyone says I'm on the Naughty-list. Later dude, Jason Peter Todd or the Red Hood depending on how you respond_.

Tim wrote: _Dear Santa, I'm only writing to you because my brothers coerced me into doing so. My request for Christmas would usually be some more tech gear, but seeing as Bruce gives me everything I want/need, I have a more interesting Christmas wish. Find Zatana and cast a spell over the family that will make them mute for one day, so I can have some peace and quiet. Tim Drake_.

Dick's letter was more along the lines of: _Dear Santa, thanks for the brothers. But I wasn't expecting them to be this high maintenance. Next time, please warn me to be careful what I ask for. This year, I am not asking for more siblings (I have enough, thanks). I just want to spend some time with the ones I already have. All I want for Christmas is a copy of "It's a Wonderful Life" and to watch it with them in front of the fire without bickering. Thanks' for commin' through buddy; three brothers is_ _plenty._ _Richard Grayson_.

That's when Damien walked into the kitchen. "What are you infidels up to now?" he demanded.

"Writing letters to Santa," answered Dick before Jason could tell him not to.

"Tt. Would Santa be the fat pervert (who somehow manages to get his impressive girth down people's chimneys in the middle of the night and eats their cookies) that you told me about last year Grayson?"

Dick had to blink a few times before he could answer. "Uhh, yeah. That's the guy."

"You idiots are wasting your time. This Santa surly cannot be real. He will not respond to these letters; which are evidence of your inferior intellect."

Ordinarily, Jason and Tim would jump all over Damien for a comment like that. This time, however, they held their peace. It was the perfect opportunity to mess with Demon Brat. They made imperceptible eye contact; and, had one been watching them, one would know that they were in the act of silently hatching some devious scheme.

"What makes you so sure Santa isn't real, Little D?" asked Jason casually slipping an arm around his youngest brother's shoulders as he had so often seen Dick do. A worrisome grin pricked at the corners of his lips.

Damien slid away from Jason and took up a defensive position. "First, NEVER call me that again, Todd! And second; it is mathematically impossible for Santa to exist. There are seven continents, and assuming there are 2 children under age 18 per-house (which allows for houses with more or none), Santa has to make approximately 4 billion stops. Assuming he starts at 12 AM, and allowing for time differences, Santa would have 0.00125 seconds to park the sleigh, jump down the chimney, eat the cookies, climb back up the chimney, and move onto the next house. Such a thing is utterly absurd!"

Dick and Jason glared at Tim.

"Don't look at me!" cried Tim holding his hands defensively, "I didn't teach him the mathematics of Santa Clause."

Jason growled at Tim in obvious disbelief before he turned back to Damien. "Ok, first Demon-brat, Dick calls you Little D all the time. Second, we live in a world with Zartara, Zatana, Cadabra, and Doctor Fate. Crazier things happen every day. So, Santa can exist outside of our laws of space and time."

"A reasonable argument, Todd," Damien congratulated, "however it came into your primitive brain. Nevertheless, I am convinced Santa Clause is a hoax."

Dick roled his eyes. Damien was a kid, and it was high time he started acting like one. Well, more like one. "Oh, Santa's real alright," he countered as he caught onto Jason and Tim's plan. "I asked him for brothers and look what I got!"

"I don't know how I feel about what you just said," Tim commented looking slightly disturbed.

"Oh, give me a break!" cried Dick, "I was nine years old and living in a mansion with two old people I only met a few months ago."

"I heard that!" said Bruce popping his head into the kitchen.

"Old-er," Dick corrected himself.

"Is something burning?" asked Bruce off topic.

"Holy shit!" cried Dick and Jason lunging at the oven. Dick pulled our one batch of black cookies. Jason blew on them; they disintegrated into dust.

"Great job Eagal-eyes!" Tim deadpanned.

Dick picked up a spoon full of cookie dust. "I think we need a new recipe."

Jason just facepalmed. Oh, Dick.

* * *

 **5pm in Dick's room:**

Dick Grayson's bedroom was like sacred ground. There was never any quarreling or fighting (unless it was a pillow fight). It was the room the used for most of their "sibling meetings". Tonight, be Christmas Eve, was no exception. Tonight, the three older boys held yet another meeting about what to do with Damian the Demon. Among the usual suggestions of duct-tapping him to the couch and shipping it to the city dump or putting up dry wall in front of his bedroom door while he slept, they discussed the issue of helping open Damien's eyes to the wonder of Santa Clause.

It was decided that they would allow Damien to catch a glimpse of Santa coming down the chimney. Jason would dress up as Santa Clause while Tim and Dick would climb up on the roof. Tim would make noises like reindeer and a sleigh up over their heads while Dick helped lower Jason down the chimney and then pull him back up again. Dick had wanted to be Santa, but Tim and Jason pointed out that there was no way Damien wouldn't recognize him. Jason would be able to pull of the little act of deceit more effectively than Dick.

With their plans set more or less in stone, they left the room one at a time and inconspicuously went about their business. The trick was going to be getting Damien into the living room to spot Santa. As Dick finally left his room he wondered if they had really thought everything through.

* * *

 **1 am in the Cave:**

"Good Night everyone," said Bruce before climbing the stairs back up to the house.

"Good night Bruce!" called Dick. "And merry Christmas!"

They heard a faint laugh from the top of the stairs. "Merry Christmas Dick. Go to sleep in your bed this year; none of that nonsense falling asleep in front of the fireplace."

"No promises," Dick responded. He ignored the funny looks Tim and Jason were giving him. However, Damien surprised them all.

"Grayson has a point," he declared.

"I do?"

"Indeed, and as much as I shall never repeat this, it would be rather unwise to leave the fireplace and chimney unguarded. Therefore, I intend to keep full watch over the manor tonight," Damien informed them.

Tim, Jason, and Dick high-fived each other behind their backs. "I thought you didn't believe in Santa," Tim teased.

"Tt, Drake. Don't display your stupidity. Of course I don't believe in Santa! However, I would not put it past any demented Gotham villains to disguise themselves as the red-clad buffoon and break into our house via the chimney."

"I see. Good plan Dami," said Dick with as straight a face as he could manage.

"And I expect you to accompany me Grayson."

"Me? Why?"

"Santa watching is a two-man job."

"Oh…um, yeah…good point Damien," said Dick. He looked back over his shoulder at Tim and Jason as Damien demanded that he follow him upstairs. How was Santa supposed to get down the chimney if Dick wasn't up on the roof to help him? Tim was a pretty strong boy, but Jason was really heavy. The guy was 6.1 feet of pure muscle. Like Dick was thinking, heavy.

Unfortunately, Dick didn't really have a choice. He followed Damien up the stairs and the two of them set up camp in the living room. Dick tried to convince Damien to leave the katana in his room, but it was a futile effort. Dick lay down on his stomach in front of the fireplace. He was vaguely aware of Damien spreading a blanket over him and a weight resting on his shoulder as he began nodding off. Before he fell asleep, Dick prayed that God would protect Santa in his journey down the perilous chimney.

Meanwhile, up on the roof, Jason and Tim were getting ready. Jason was wearing a full on Santa suit with the additional girth composed of pillow stuffing. His young eyes looked out of place on a face obscured by a white beard. He just hoped Dick had the demon under control. He nodded at Tim who began making the sound of hooves landing on the roof.

After a few moments, Jason stepped towards the chimney and jumped in. He did crazier things as Red Hood, right? Why wasn't that a comforting thought? The going wasn't too hard at first. But then he got to a narrower point of the chimney. He tried to move. No good. He was crammed in there tight.

"How's it going Santa?" Tim whispered from above.

"Fucking terrific!" hissed Jason, "I'm stuck!"

"Uh, oh. Not good."

"Geeze. Ya' think?!"

"Hold on." Tim wipped out his phone and texted Dick.

 **Tim:** Houston, we have a problem. Antasay is uckstay.

 **Dick:** English please

 **Tim:** Santa is stuck!

 **Dick:** oh shit!

 **Tim** : Oh shit indeed

Dick didn't have a chance to do anything to help Jason because Damien was stirring beside him. The kid's eyes were wide and alert. The katana was out of its sheath and the little assassin was sneaking closer to the chimney. He motioned silently for Dick to follow his lead. Dick nodded wordlessly. The two crept closer and closer to the fireplace.

"I heard animals on the roof," Damien whispered.

"Probably the reindeer," Dick informed him.

"Don't be absurd, Grayson! Reindeer couldn't have gotten up on the roof."

"Unless they flew," Dick pointed out.

Damien didn't respond to that. The two were practically crouching in the fireplace at this point. They looked up into the blackness above. Shoot and dust from the bricks fell onto their faces. They could hear scuffling, heavy breathing, and whispered curses coming from somewhere over their heads.

"I know you're up there," Damien called into the chimney, "surrender now, and I will let you live."

"A kind offer," called a deep voice from somewhere in the blackness. "But I seem to be stuck."

"Tt. You're an idiot!" Damien informed the voice.

"I'm Santa, that's all!" Jason shot back.

"Well Santa, you seem to have underestimated your girth," laughed Dick as he stood cautiously in the chimney. He managed to reach one of Jason's boots and began to tug. "Damien, I need a little help."

Damien started grumbling but nevertheless, put aside the katana and squeezed into the chimney beside Dick. They pulled. "Grayson, I have a suggestion for Pennyworth," he grunted as they pulled at Santa's boots, "instead of leaving cookies for the fat man above us, we should leave rice-cakes."

"I heard that!" Jason snapped from above.

"Kid's got a point," Dick grunted as he tried to yank their imposter Santa out of the chimney.

"That does it," declared Jason, "you're both on the naughty list!"

Dick laughed. After a few more minutes of pulling, Santa Jason finally broke loose. He landed on top of Damien and Dick. He let out a hardy ho, ho, ho. All three crawled out of the fireplace dragging soot with them. Suddenly, a sack full of toys fell through the chimney as another voice shouted "Geronimo!" from somewhere on the roof.

Damien was instantly alert. He was glaring at Jason with a fiercer intensity than Dick had seen in a while. "You're an imposter!" he finally declared.

"How can you be so sure?" Jason demanded putting his hands on his hips.

"Your mustache is coming off."

Jason's eyes grew wide. A hand flew to his face as the mustache fell into his palm. He looked back up at Damien with calm eyes. "Just can't get a decent mustache groom these days," he sighed.

"Prepare to meet your doom imposter! You should have known better than to invade the house of Wayne." Damien lunged at Jason with his katana.

"Damien!" screamed Dick, "someone help! Damien's trying to kill Santa Clause!"

Upon hearing a racket downstairs in the living room, Bruce reluctantly got out of bed, grabbed his bathrobe, and headed towards the commotion. Whatever happened to _peace on earth and good will towards men?_ Apparently, Damien hadn't gotten the message.

When Bruce finally walked into the room, he was greeted with quite the spectacle. There was soot and black footprints all over the room. There was a man dressed as Santa Clause (also covered in soot) running around the room. Damien was chasing Santa around the room with his katana drawn demanding that the man to surrender. Dick was chasing Damien and trying to break up the battle before they crashed into the gigantic Christmas tree and knocked it over. Tim rushed past him into the room to help Dick and Santa.

"What is going on here?" Bruce demanded unintentionally using his Batman voice. The boys all paused and looked at him. Bruce stepped further into the room. "Jason, take off that ridiculous costume right now!"

Damien looked at Santa. "Todd?"

"Hey Demon-brat," said Jason removing the beard.

"Todd!" Damien screamed again, "why would you break into your own house in such a manner! That is the stupidest thing I have known you to do. And considering your track record for imbecilic stunts, that is saying something!"

Dick, Jason, and Tim burst into riotous laughter. Damien's face turned red as he mentally put all the pieces together. The embarrassment was almost too much. For half a minute, he had believed that it might be Santa. He had even dared to hope that it was the jolly old man. He was upset with himself for that. And even more upset that he hadn't recognized Jason from the beginning. Maybe he wasn't as great a detective as he always thought he was.

Once the situation had been explained, Bruce relaxed. Damien relaxed too. He even forgave his brothers more or less. Jason ran upstairs to get cleaned up and changed out of his Santa outfit. When he came back, he settled on the second couch to sleep. Dick had convinced Bruce and everyone else to wait for Santa in the living room. No one understood how Dick always got people to do what he wanted. It was magic.

An hour or so later, Bruce woke up to see Santa Clause stuffing the stockings. "Merry Christmas," the old man whispered in a British accent. Bruce blinked for a moment, and then he was gone. He smiled to himself; Dick would be so jealous. After 22 years of trying to catch Santa, he had failed every time.

Bruce smiled down at his little family. Jason was snoring loudly on the opposite couch with one leg slung over the side. Tim was curled up in the arm chair with his tablet; head hanging back with his mouth open. Dick was stretched out on his belly on the floor with a pillow tucked securely under his cheek as Damien once again used his older brother's back as a pillow. Bruce hoped that Santa had come through on his Christmas wish. Who says Santa only brings presents for children?

* * *

 **8 am in the living room:**

"Hey Jace, did Santa leave you a lump of coal for trying to impersonate him last night?" teased Dick as they opened their stockings.

"Ha, ha!" Jason deadpanned. He held up four posters of beautiful models in bathing suits. "He gave me the girls I asked for. And don't think I'm sharing! These babies are all mine! What did you get, Timbo?"

Tim reached into his stocking and pulled out a note from Santa and a role of duct-tape. The note said: _Dear Tim, I'm deeply sorry I could not mute your family for you. However, I'm sure you can use this duct-tape very effetely on their mouths. Love Santa._ "Just some duct-tape," Tim answered Jason casually.

"Pht, lame," scoffed Jason. "What about you Dick?"

"I got a copy of _It's a Wonderful Life_ ," answered Dick, "we can all watch it together!"

Jason blanched. "I'd tell you to got fuck yourself, but it's Christmas, so I'll be charitable and just tell you to shut up."

"Thanks also," Dick deadpanned, "you're all heart.; like the Grinch."

"Yeah whatever."

"Santa gave me exactly what I wanted," Bruce interjected, "he held up a framed photograph of all the boys sleeping in the Livingroom from the night before.

"Imposible!" declared Dick.

"No indeed, Master Dick," said Alfred as he joined them. He winked at Bruce. "Santa knows everything."

Meanwhile Damien was staring at his gift. It was impossible. It was the stuffed kitten Dick had given him in his first few weeks as Robin. The one Damien had thrown away because he thought it was too childish or some such nonsense. Sure he'd been given replacements for it, but he'd always regretted throwing away that little stuffed cat. "Do you recognize this Grayson?" he asked Dick quietly.

"Yeah," answered Dick. "I thought you pitched it."

"I did."

"Believe in Santa yet?"

"Maybe." Damien turned and watched Alfred like a hawk. "But I think I believe more in magical Butlers who know everything." He walked over to Alfred and coughed to get the old man's attention. "Thank you Pennyworth. And…and Merry Christmas."

"Marry Christmas, Master Damien," said Alfred. "Now may I propose we eat breakfast and watch Master Dick's movie before we finish opening presents?"

 **Epilogue:**

"You know what we missed?" asked Dick.

"Nope," answered Jason patting his stomach, "that was one hell of a dinner Alf."

"We're missing the Christmas songs!" declared Dick pulling out his guitar.

"Oh God have mercy!" said Bruce.

"Drake, didn't Santa give you duct-tape?" demanded Damien.

"Quit your griping!" ordered Dick. "I'm sure even Jason will like this song." He passed out the lyrics to his brothers. Dick began to play the tune of _Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer_. Bruce expected Jason and Damien to growl at him and shout something to the effect of "shut up Dick!" He was surprised when they didn't. And even more surprised when an evil smile slowly spread over Jason's face. _Oh no, what are they up to?_ And then everything became clear when the lyrics kicked in:

 _Batman got run over by a Reindeer,_

 _Coming back to the cave on Christmas Eve,_

 _You can say there's no such thing as Santa,_

 _But as for me and Robin we believe._

 _..._

 _He'd been chasing after Joker_

 _And we begged him not to go._

 _But he thought he saw the Penguin_

 _And jumped off the roof into the snow_

 _..._

 _We found him Christmas morning_

 _At the scene of the attack,_

 _He had hoof marks on his cowl_

 _And incriminating Clause marks on his back_

 _..._

 _Batman got run over by a Reindeer,_

 _Coming back to the cave on Christmas Eve,_

 _You can say there's no such thing as Santa,_

 _But as for me and Red Hood we believe._

 _..._

 _Things went berserk without Batman,_

 _With Crock and Joker on the loose_

 _Two Face stole our fancy stockings,_

 _So Nightwing called a Christmas truce._

 _..._

 _We were all impressed with Alfred_

 _He was already dressed in black_

 _And we just can't help but wonder,_

 _Did he know Batman wasn't coming back?_

 _..._

 _Batman got run over by a Reindeer,_

 _Coming back to the cave on Christmas Eve,_

 _You can say there's no such thing as Santa,_

 _But as for me and Red Robin we believe._

 _..._

 _Now his cowl's on the table_

 _And the gadgets from his belt_

 _We divided up his cases_

 _I wonder how Batman would have felt._

 _..._

 _I warned all my friends and allies_

 _"_ _Better watch out for yourselves"_

 _They shouldn't give a license,_

 _To a man who drives and sleigh and plays with elves!_

"Dick!" screamed Bruce.

"Merry Christmas dad," laughed Dick.

 **Author's Note: Merry Christmas! Hope you enjoyed.**


	21. Story 21: First Day at Gotham College P1

**Being Driven Batty: Story 21**

 **First Day at Gotham College: Part 1**

Dick Grayson slid his motorcycle into an impressive stop in the January snow of Gotham College's student parking lot. He didn't have a chance to remove his helmet before Jason skidded to a stop beside him, purposefully whooshing a spray of dirty snow onto Dick's leg. Dick scowled at his brother as he removed his helmet. He shielded his eyes from the blaring sun which glinted off the snow and other vehicles in the parking lot.

"Jason! What was that for?!"

Jason removed his helmet and shook out his hair. "I'm pissed at the world today. And you're part of it."

"Comm'on Jay, college is fun." Dick swung his leg over the motorcycle and bent down to brush the snow off his pants.

"Not when Bruce pushes you into it."

"We _agreed_ to go back to school, remember? You're just lucky he didn't insist that you go back and finish high school."

Jason scowled again and wiped his nose which had started to run from the frigid air. "Still not cool. And the worst part is, I have to go with my childish older brother!"

Dick smiled. "You mean the best part is that you get to go with your _awesome_ older brother."

Jason pushed past him. "Yeah, whatever. Just do us both a favor and don't tell anyone your name. And if anyone asks, we don't know each other."

Dick grabbed the backpack off the back of his motorcycle and followed his brother towards the school. He was determined not to take anything Jason said personally. For all their squabbles and differences, they had become fast friends. This is just how things went sometimes: people or situations pushed Jason a little too far and he lashed out at anyone within proximity. For his part, Dick didn't resent going back to school. In fact, he had kind of been looking forward to it ever since Bruce had all but begged him and Jason to finish their civilian education. He shrugged and kept moving.

Students swarmed in through the double set of black glass doors and into the entrance hallway alongside the athletic center. People pushed past him on all sides; some running to class, some trying to catch up with a friend, and some just not looking where they were going. He tried to keep an eye out for Jason, but he didn't have any luck. Dick sighed. He should probably get to class. Glancing down at the day's class schedule, he headed for applied physics in lab 410B.

* * *

 **Class: British Novels 103 Time: 9:25 AM**

Jason hurried off to his first class before Dick would have a chance to see him. Ok, so he'd been a bit of a jerk; sue him. He didn't need his whole family knowing he had a secret love of literature and Shakespeare. That could permanently damage his reputation as the rebellious, intimidating, rude, I-don't-give-a-shit-about-anything boy he'd spent so long perfecting.

And his track-record was still intact. Jason pushed open the lecture hall doors fashionably 10 minutes late and flopped down at a vacant desk. The professor paused and raised an eyebrow at Jason who kicked his combat boots up on the desk and leaned back.

"You can go on Mr. Professor," said Jason casually.

Professor Faber shook himself out of his momentary stupor and fixed his glasses on the end of his nose again. "Right. As I was saying, I am not your syllabus…"

"That's good to know," interrupted Jason, "I'll have to make a note about that."

Faber glared at him. "Ahem. I am _not_ your syllabus. If you have questions about upcoming assignments, please refer to the syllabus and your texts first. If you still have questions regarding the aforementioned assignments, I will do my best to help you. Are there any questions thus far?"

Jason raised his hand.

"Mr. Disturbance in the fourth row," Faber called out rolling his eyes.

"Just one sir. When do we actually start learning stuff?"

The whole lecture hall started laughing or rather attempting to suppress their laughter. For some reason, people are under the impression that kids get more mature in collage. Jason was there to disprove that misconception.

"What is your name, young man?" demanded Faber.

"Jason Todd."

Recognition seemed to dawn on the old professor. "Well Mr. Todd, I suggest that you stow your attitude and put your feet back under the desk."

"I like suggestions," said Jason, "they imply choice. I appreciate that. Thank you, but I'll hold onto the attitude for the time being."

"As you will," Faber ground his teeth. "Then can I continue my lecture?"

"I don't know; _can_ you?"

The other students let out another round of appalled laughter which they attempted to disguise as sneezes or coughs.

Faber slammed his hands on his desk. "QUIET!" he screamed. "Jason Todd, how would you like to attempt teaching a class of 200 students?"

"Only after I've had a few beers," answered Jason.

* * *

 **Class: Applied Physics 310 Time: 9:50 AM**

Dick absentmindedly swung his legs back and forth under the lab table. He wasn't really paying any attention to his professor. His mind kept wandering back to Jason's comment about having to go to school with his older brother. Maybe it was immature for things like that to bother him so much, but Dick had a tendency to take things to heart: good things, bad thing, things that hurt, and everything in between. But that's what comes of wearing your heart on your sleeve. He could hide pain behind a smile and good-natured jokes better than most anyone. But that was hiding. It didn't change the fact that what he was hiding hurt him in the worst ways.

He was so preoccupied with his own thoughts that he didn't notice his professor standing directly over him. When he felt a hand on his shoulder, he jerked back reflexively; knocking over a jar of variously sized steel pendulums on his way down to the floor. Dick looked up in a daze. The other students were laughing as he sat stunned on the floor while the boy beside him madly chased the spilt pendulums across the table.

"Mr. Grayson, do you intend to spend the day on the floor, or shall we get on with it?" asked Dr. Brower.

Dick could feel the heat rise in his cheeks. He imagined they were a lovely shade of Sephora pink right about now. He pushed himself off the floor. "Yep, I'm good to go." The he realized he hadn't heard a word the professor said. "What are we doing again?"

The class laughed harder.

Dr. Brower looked long suffering. "We're getting into groups of two today and conducting preliminary physics experiments with the ramp and weighted balls. You will build your ramps to the angle of decent where the ball finishes rolling at 10 MPH. It's all there on the handout."

Dick snapped up the handout from the desk and gave it a cursory inspection. This would be easy. "Who am I…?"

"You're working with Phillis Garner," answered Dr. Brower. He pointed.

Dick's eyes scanned the area of the room his professor had indicated. A lanky girl with long curly brown hair and thick, rimless glasses smiled eagerly at him and waved. Dick gave her a friendly smile and waved back. He noticed (unsurprisingly) that the two girls on either side of Phillis were trying to hide their jealousy behind masks of indifference.

Dr. Brower clapped his hands once loudly. "Right. Get to work people. Experiments don't conduct themselves." The room sprang into action as students began talking to their partners and gathering the necessary equipment.

Phillis grabbed her copy of the hand out and ambled over to Dick. "Hey, Richard Grayson, Mr. Wayne's son, right? I'm Phillis. Can I call you Ricki or I think sometimes you go by Dick, right?...That's ok if I don't call you Mr. Grayson, isn't it? I mean, Mr. Grayson sounds like an old man name or something…I should stop talking…I just can't sometimes…I get nervous and then I just can't stop talking…you don't mind working with me, do you?"

Dick blinked. Fortunately, he was used to interpreting an excited Wally West into normal English and thus was still able to distinguish individual phrases. "You may call me whichever you like," answered Dick _. Just do us both a favor and don't tell anyone your name._ He smiled at her. "And of course I don't mind working with you, Phillis. I'm sure you're a great lab partner."

The girl beamed. "That's the nicest thing anyone has said to me in _forever._ "

"We should probably get working, don't you think?" asked Dick. (He didn't know how to respond to her last comment.)

"Oh, right. Sorry," laughed Phillis, "silly me. Dr. Brower said the things we need to build the ramp are in the utility closet in the back."

The two walked over to the closet and began grabbing their equipment.

* * *

 **Class: Geography 120 Time: 10:32**

Jason rolled his eyes. He was taking a geography class only because it was required for all freshmen (especially rich ones who didn't even have a high school diploma). Jason drummed his fingers on the desk while glaring up at his professor from under furrowed eyebrows. The woman was so sleep deprived and pumped full of caffeine that Jason figured he could tell her Hong Kong was the capital of Denmark and she'd accept it as fact.

"Now, what we have to remember is that the importance of the Middle East is to keep the Far East and Near East from encroaching on each other," Professor Seirtsema was saying. She pointed vaguely to a map on the PowerPoint with a laser. "Now, as you can see…uh, where was I?"

Jason rolled his eyes. "You were in South America," he supplied doubting she'd realize the mistake.

"America, thank you," she said through a yawn, "I was in Latin America recently. My only regret is that I didn't study Latin harder in school, so I could converse with the people."

"Seriously?" grumbled the girl next to Jason.

"It get's better," he whispered, "just wait till she gets to the US."

"Why are you talking while I'm talking?" demanded Professor Seirtsema.

Jason spoke up. "We were just talking about how China is a big country inhabited by many Chinese."

His professor glared at him. "Did I get to that part of the class yet?"

"You must have," answered Jason innocently, "otherwise how would we know that?"

"Humm…I think I should go back to bed. I must be slipping." Mrs. Seirtsema shook her head. "I could have sworn we were talking about the Americas."

"Why don't we just forget class and all take a nap session?" Jason suggested.

"Don't be absurd young man," gasped Mrs. Seirtsema, "then everyone will go to sleep!"

Jason allowed his head to slam loudly on the desk as his professor started talking again. He was walking out of the classroom and going to the bar in ten minutes; and there was no way in hell anyone would be able to stop him.

* * *

 **Class: Applied Physics 310 Time: 10:57 AM**

"This was a great idea Ricki," Phillis babbled on, "I mean, I never would have thought of using a car jack to raise the base of the ramp. This is like so ingenious!"

Dick looked up from his calculations as she continued talking and pumping the jack higher and higher. He raised an eyebrow. "Hey Phillis, you should probably keep an eye on the height. If you raise the elevation of the ramp above 3.45 feet, the ball will role too fast," he warned.

But Phillis didn't seem to hear him and continued pumping the car jack's elevation. "I didn't think of you as the intelligent sort," she continued as if he hadn't said anything, "I'm sorry, please don't take offence, but I thought you were just another pretty face…I mean, you did some modeling…you're like the hottest guy ever!... Wait, I didn't mean it like that…it's just that I always thought beauty and brains didn't go together. Yeah, that's an unfair stereotype…"

"Phillis!" cried Dick.

"Huh?" Phillis looked up. The ramp was at about a 5.6-foot elevation with a 68 degree incline. The 20 pound metal ball, which had been perched at the top, wobbled and started down the ramp.

"Oh dear. This can't end well," muttered Dick.

Dick and Phillis watched with open mouths as the ball gained speed rapidly down the ramp and continued rolling across the floor. The little speedometer they had set up for the experiment flashed "48 MPH". The ball kept rolling towards a door that read "Dr. Brower's Office" in big black letters. It had just enough velocity to crash through the thin wooden door and take out the legs of Brower's chair. There was a shrill yelp from inside the office accompanied by the sound of a heavy thud and a loud crash.

"What in Newton's name just happened?" screamed Dr. Brower.

"Shit!" cursed Dick.

"Language!" Phillis admonished him.

"What idiot fouled up the simplest physics experiment in the books?!" demanded their professor from the sanctity of his wrecked office.

Phillis and Dick finally joined the other students crowded around the now broken-in door of their professor's office. Dr. Brower, glasses askew across his shocked face, was sprawled on the floor atop the remains of his desk chair, covered in papers. Beside the door, the bookshelf on the opposite wall had been wrecked and the floor was now covered with textbooks, papers, and odd instruments. The ball which had caused the problem rolled slightly back and forth under one such pile of junk.

The man fumbled to his feet with Dick's help and adjusted his glasses. "I demand to know who will be paying for my chair!"

"That would be my fault, sir," answered Dick.

"Well Mr. Grayson, it would appear you have a mess to clean up," said Brower casually. He stepped over the broken pieces of his chair, "and don't think duct tape will solve all your problems."

Dick sighed and bent over to start picking up the papers. He blinked as the flash of a camera hit him in the face. He looked up.

One of his classmates smiled. "Just a picture for posterity, man. This is _soooooo_ going in the yearbook!"

Dick smiled good naturedly. "As long as you didn't get my bad side," he joked.

"You don't have a bad side…" sighed Phillis leaning in the doorway.

"Umm…" Dick and the boy with the camera looked at her.

Phillis snapped out of it instantly. "What I mean is…er…ah…you're so nice you don't have a bad side too you! I mean not everyone would take the fall for something they didn't do…you know?"

"Wait, you didn't do this?" asked the boy, "dude!"

Dick smirked. "I got my picture in the yearbook, didn't I?"

"Man, you are crazy!" The boy set the camera aside and started helping Dick and Phillis clean the office. "Name's Jake, by the way."

Dick shook Jake's hand firmly. "Name's Richard, but I go by... _Do us both a favor and don't tell anyone your name_ …Dick."

Jake let out a hearty laugh. "Dude, you are too funny. We gotta' get lunch together now."

* * *

 **Author's Note: Hey guys, sorry updates are so hard these days due to being in school. Anyways, if there are any classes you think would suit either Dick or Jason, let me know. Since you get to choose your classes in college (well, aside from the core courses), it could be a fun way to see each of their inner personalities come through. Personally, I'd love to see Jason in philosophy, but maybe that's just me** **?**


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